


Slouching Toward Bethlehem

by kaynkay13



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Long fic will be long., Modern Girl in Thedas, Not a self insert, Not a video game, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Thedas as a parallel universe, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-15 22:29:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5802544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaynkay13/pseuds/kaynkay13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pax Seiler has grown used to the mundane. Her life consists of work, her son, and more work. As a single mother, she pours all of her energy into providing for her family, and making a better life for herself and her little boy. When a car crash suddenly upends all of what she's known, and throws her into a new world full of violence, magic, and mystery, will she be able to finally find the love and acceptance she's always craved? And how will she find a way back to her son?</p><p>A non-inquisitor OC fic that's not a self-insert. Eventual Cullen/OC pairing that takes a while to come to fruition. Rating may change, and tags will be added as the story progresses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Turning and Turning in the Widening Gyre

The office door closed behind her with a satisfying thud. Knowing the workday was over always made her shoulders feel a little less tense. Pax adjusted her work bag before hurrying across the mostly empty parking lot, clutching her coat close to her body and trying not to lose her footing on the slick asphalt. The snow crunched under her boots as she walked and the wind whistled across the open space. She tried to shield her face from the blistering cold as she walked, but when she turned her body away from the wind, it caught her long black hair, causing it to whip sharply across her face.

Her car, one of the last ones remaining, was covered in a fine sheet of ice and dusted with snow. She huffed, knowing that as soon as she opened the door, the wind would blow the fine white powder all over her seats. Using the sleeve of her coat, she tried to wipe as much snow away as possible, then opened the door and deposited her work bag on the seat, taking great care not to jostle her already battered laptop.

She had just popped her trunk and grabbed her ice scraper when she heard someone calling her name. She turned to see a lanky, redheaded man jogging towards her. She groaned. _Oh great._

“Hey, Pax! Wait up!” 

“Jerry, please slow down. You’re going to-“

Jerry’s foot hit a patch of ice, and Pax watched as his body contorted – his arms spread wide as he tried to regain his balance, while momentum and inertia kept his feet moving forward. Gravity ultimately won, and Jerry ended up sprawled across the adjacent parking space, staring up at the cloudy grey sky. He laid there, unmoving for a moment, and Pax watched on, unsure of what to do until his body started to shake. _Shit, is he convulsing?_

She dropped her ice scraper and ran over to Jerry’s still twitching form. Kneeling down beside his head, she reached out to turn his face towards her. Her fear melted away when she realized Jerry wasn’t having a seizure. He was laughing. Silent giggles wracked his body, and when his eyes met hers, seeing her concern, he finally let out a bark of laughter. Pax rolled her eyes and stood, holding out a hand to help him up.

“You asshole. I thought you were hurt.” She said, hauling him to his feet. 

“The only thing I’ve injured is my pride. And maybe my tailbone.” He ran his hands over his ginger curls, trying to shake the snow from his head.

“I should have kicked snow in your face. Care to tell me why sprinting across an icy parking lot was a good idea?” Pax asked, turning back to retrieve her discarded ice scraper.

“You forgot this,” Jerry said, holding out his hands. In his fist was a red knitted scarf. 

“All those dramatics over a scarf? You realize I could have just grabbed it at work tomorrow, right?”

“Well, I thought maybe your neck would get cold. And those cleaning people have a habit of snagging things from the office, or at least that’s what Mike from sales said. He told me he left a couple pairs of gloves here on purpose just to see if they’d still be there, and the next morning they were gone, so…”

Jerry rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. Pax regarded him in silence, one eyebrow raised as she listened to him ramble.

“…Uh, I also wanted to ask if you were busy tonight. I’m getting a drink with Mike and a couple other guys from the sales department. I just thought if you didn’t have any other plans, that, you know, maybe you’d wanna swing buy for a bit?”

Pax exhaled slowly out her nose and closed her eyes. “I can’t tonight, Jerry. I have to go pick up my son. I’m sorry.”

Jerry nodded and looked down at his feet, tucking his hands underneath his arms. He kicked at the snow with the toes of his shoes, creating small patterns in the snow. Pax sighed and started to turn away, but he reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. 

“Hey, I know I always ask last minute, but maybe if I planned something ahead of time, like on a weekend, maybe you could come? That way you could arrange a babysitter and whatnot. Or we could always do something that your son would like. We could do a kids movie or something so he could hang out too. Would that work better for you?”

Pax froze, unsure of what to do. She followed his gaze as it grazed over her features, flicking down to her lips then back up to her eyes. He looked so hopeful. That was certainly not something she had expected. Part of her wanted to tell him no, to let him down easy, to walk away from the awkwardness of the conversation. The other part jumped at the chance to finally get some human interaction outside of home and work. Before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out her mouth.

“Yeah…yeah I think that would be fine.”

A look of pure relief and joy flooded over Jerry’s face and grinned, his pale lips parting to show brilliantly white teeth. As much as she hated to admit it, the way his freckles bunched up around his cheeks when he smiled was attractive. 

“That’s – that’s great! I’ll text you later, then, and we can work something out.”

“Sure, Jerry. I’d like that.”

Jerry smiled even wider, if that were even possible, and began to turn away, when he realized he was still holding on to her scarf. He held it out to her again.

“Here. Better not forget this. I didn’t fall on my ass for nothing, you know.”

Pax stifled a laugh as she took her scarf and wrapped it around her neck.

“Thanks Jerry. I appreciate it.”

“No worries. I’ll talk to you later, then?”

“Yep. Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jerry turned and started walking towards his car, waving over his shoulder as he left. Pax turned towards her own car, which was still covered in snow and ice. Well, shit.

***

After tediously scraping the ice from her windshield, all while muttering a string of curses under her breath, Pax threw herself down into the driver’s seat with a thud, slamming the door shut behind her. She slumped forward, resting her head against the steering wheel. The vibrations from the idling engine seeped into her forehead, giving her a brief reprieve from the headache that throbbed behind her eyes. She looked at the clock on her radio and moaned. It was still snowing, and the roads would probably be a mess, so that meant she’d have at least another thirty minutes tacked on to her commute. Before she could even put her car in drive, her cellphone started ringing. 

“For fucks sake. Jerry if that’s you already, I’m going to kick your ass…” She looked at the screen. It was her boss. 

“Seriously? I’m not even out of the parking lot yet.” Part of her was tempted to ignore the call, but she knew he wouldn’t stop calling until she answered. She slid her finger across the screen and put the phone up to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Pax. Sorry to call you like this. I wanted to catch you before you left, but I got a little tied up in a meeting.”

“That’s alright. What can I do for you?”

“We have a rep from Sanitize-Right Surgical Gloves coming in tomorrow afternoon, so I need you to push those product descriptions through before he gets here. Could you come in an hour earlier in the morning?”

 _Shit._ Pax pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing as hard as she could manage.

“Is there any way I could do them from home tonight? I have to drop my son off at preschool in the morning, and I don’t have anyone available who could do it for me.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone, until she heard her employer sigh.

“I suppose you could do it tonight. So long as you have it done before he gets here tomorrow, there won’t be an issue.”

Pax let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. She thanked her boss profusely and promised to get the necessary work done tonight and hung up before he could ask her to do anything else. She quickly sent a text to her mother, letting her know she was on her way, then pulled out of the parking lot, heading towards home.

***

Thankfully, the highways were relatively clear. As much as Pax hated her hour long commute, the drive gave her time to think and decompress, and at least the scenery was pretty. As the highway took her further from the city, the area surrounding the road opened up to rolling hills, wooded tracts, and acres upon acres of farmland. All of it was covered in a thin layer of snow, and she could catch glimpses of icicles hanging from bare tree branches, glinting in the light of the fading sun.

She let her mind wander, sometimes thinking up new ideas for an article or a short story, even though she knew she’d never have time to write them. On this particular drive, she was focused solely on the night ahead, trying to plan out her evening. Hopefully her mother would have Owen ready to go when she arrived. After the short drive home, it would be bath time, as Owen would most likely have eaten dinner already. Then they would lounge for a while with quiet playtime until she caught him yawning. If things went according to plan, which rarely happened, she’d put Owen in bed by 9:00, read him a couple books, and be able to start working by 10. 

Pax knew her boss was just being nice to her. Usually, employees weren’t allowed to work from home unless given special permission, but since Pax was still adjusting to life as a single mother, they were cutting her some slack. Even so, she still resented her position. After working there for two years she was still only one step above an intern, stuck writing product descriptions for medical equipment, and barely getting paid a decent enough salary to support herself and her son. Her student loan debt took a majority of her paychecks, and the rest went to her son’s tuition, bills, and groceries. And now, on top of her money troubles, she had Jerry to deal with.

He was nice enough, and mildly attractive in an endearing sort of way. But was it really fair to him to give him false hope? How could she manage a relationship on top of her other responsibilities? Not to mention she barely had time for herself as it was. She went to work, she came home. That was her life now. Was she diving back into this too soon? Did she even remember what it felt like to be desired? She hadn’t been on a date in years, not since… _No. Don’t think about it._

Her mind snapped back to attention when she saw the sign for her upcoming exit. She checked her mirrors, then merged over, guiding her car down the snow covered off-ramp. The plows didn’t seem to have come through this area yet. Pax snorted. Of course they hadn’t, but at least one or two cars had left enough tracks to help her keep the car on the road. 

The sun had all but disappeared below the horizon, and her headlights caused the fresh powder to glimmer like diamonds. It would have been pretty if she wasn’t clutching the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white. This road was a death trap in the winter, with both sides being densely wooded and steep ditches on either side. It curved through the hills, leading down into a deep valley where her parent’s house stood. She should have known this road by heart, but the surrounding darkness left by the setting sun and the overarching tree branches cut off all light, making it impossible to navigate. 

“Just a couple more miles…” she reminded herself. 

Headlights blazed behind her, bathing the interior of her car in light and causing her to wince. She looked in her rearview mirror to see a pickup truck with its brights on, barreling down the road and coming up quickly on her tail. She put her hazard lights on, hoping he would go around. Instead, the truck pulled right up to the ass end of her car, honking furiously.

“I hate trucks. I fucking hate trucks,” she muttered, rolling down her window and sticking her arm out, trying to signal him to go around.

The driver of the truck finally seemed to get the hint and flashed his lights. He pulled up beside her, and for a moment, they were driving side by side. Pax tried her best to pay attention to the road, but the truck beside her made her nervous. Finally, the truck driver slammed on the accelerator, making the engine roar, and a thick cloud of black smoke billowed from the truck’s muffler as it took off.

As the truck’s engine screamed and the driver tried to merge over in front of Pax, the tail end started to drift. The truck fish-tailed, sliding back and forth across the snow-covered road, until the rear tires slipped off the road, causing the truck to turn over in the ditch. Pax hit her own breaks, trying her best to maintain control of her car and miss hitting the truck. She felt her tires lose grip, and she started to slide, heading straight for the ditch. As her right tires slipped over the edge, she braced herself for the impact. She heard a crunch as her front end collided with the bank on the other side, narrowly missing a tree trunk. She was going slowly enough that she was only jostled slightly, but that didn’t stop her from being pissed.

Pax banged on her steering wheel, unbuckled her seatbelt, and stepped out of the car. The truck was only a few yards ahead of her, and she was about to give the driver a piece of her mind. Her face twisted with rage as she grew nearer to the truck, which was laying mostly on its right side. "Stupid fucking idiot," she muttered as she trudged through the drifted ditch. "I’m invincible in the snow. I have a hemi. I have all-wheel drive. My truck runs on diesel. Whoop-de-fucking-doo."

She reached the truck and pounded on the driver’s side door. 

“Come out of there, you asshole.”

No answer. She tried peering through the window, but it was too dark. She couldn’t see any movement inside. 

Before she could stop herself, she yanked open the door. The cab was empty.

She looked around, wondering if the driver had already climbed out, but the only footprints in the snow were her own.

She grabbed her phone out of her coat pocket and tried to call her parents. She had to let them know she’d been in an accident, that she’d be late to pick up her son. She listened to the phone ring, once, twice, three times. Then it went to voicemail.

“Well…..shit.”

She walked back to her car, wanting to get out of the cold, and tried to call her parents again. Still no answer. She left a message. As she started to dial 911, she heard a loud bang. Looking up from her phone, she could see a green light shimmering through the trees. It was…odd, to say the least. There weren’t any houses around this area. Could it be the driver of the truck? Did he light a flare?

Pax shoved her phone back into her coat pocket and stepped out of her car. She stalked slowly toward the tree line. As she passed between tree trunks, whatever was causing the green light started coming into view.

It was….something. She didn’t know how to describe it, exactly. It looked like a hole had appeared in the middle of the woods. It was sparking, and gave off a metallic hum. Sputtering bursts of energy shot away from its center. It was amorphous, with no real shape besides the swirling green mist that seemed to rotate around it. There were also rocky, glowing spikes that shot up from the ground. The cautious part of her told her to go back to her car, call the police, wait for her parents. But the curious part of her told her to get closer, to investigate.

Pax stepped closer to the swirling pillar of energy. Something inside her mind told her to reach out, to touch it. She held out her hand, and then the ground shifted beneath her, and she found herself hurtling through nothingness, and her vision went black.


	2. The Falcon Cannot Hear the Falconer

The first thing Pax noticed as she came to was that the hard surface under her cheek seemed to be thrumming. She could feel faint vibrations coursing through her body as they swelled and receded, like the ground beneath her was breathing. _It’s just the engine idling. I’m still in my car. I must have hit my head when I crashed. Please let me still be in my car…_ Slowly she forced her eyes open, blinking against the harsh green light. As her vision cleared, she could see what appeared to be a mountain range in the distance, it’s jagged edges standing out against the ominous green sky.

She was lying on her stomach, on what seemed to be a large slab of sheet rock, with her left arm jammed tightly beneath her chest. She groaned as she shifted her weight, trying to ease her arm from underneath her. As she moved, she felt a sharp pain shoot through her right side and she yelped. She yanked her arm free, then lowered her forehead back down on her forearms, trying to breathe through the discomfort. _Slow and easy, Pax…you have to get on your feet._ As gingerly as she could, she brought her hands to her sides and pressed her palms into the rock, lifting her upper body off the ground. Her arms trembled under her weight, and her elbows threatened to give out at any moment. She brought her knees up towards her chest, one at a time, trying to get her feet underneath her. When she was certain she had her balance, she stood.

As she straightened, she felt another twinge of pain in her right side. She clutched her rib cage, and noticed that it was becoming more difficult to breathe. It wasn’t just her throbbing ribs, but the air itself. It was thick and oppressive, like an overly humid summer day. It pressed against her from all sides, like it was trying to force her back to the ground. She forced herself to start breathing through her mouth, because the stench was almost unbearable. It reeked of sulfur and decay. She glanced around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. For miles on either side of her the landscape was barren, filled only with stone outcroppings and pools of stagnant water. Not far in front of her was another jutting mountain range, the smooth surface of the rocks glinted like polished metal. She looked up to inspect the sky, and found large pillars of stone floating in midair, held aloft by some unknown force. Dark clouds rolled overhead, with a green haze filtering through, casting the whole area in a sickly glow.

 _I’m dead…_ she thought, clamping her eyes shut to block out the hellscape before her. _I’m dead, and this is a hell of my own making._ Pax took in a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Then she heard it, the same humming she had heard as she approached the glowing light in the woods. It was coming from behind her. She turned around, looking for the source. Not fifty yards behind her was a bright swirling green mist, just like the one she had seen after the crash. It hung in midair, over a valley in the plain. She hobbled towards it, still clutching at her side, forcing her stiff muscles to carry her forward.

As she drew closer, she could see flashes of the woods, ebbing in and out of focus as the light twisted. _Maybe it’ll take me back_ she thought, trying to make her feet move faster. She sloshed through the small ponds in her path, taking the most direct route to the pillar of energy. Her body was finally cooperating, allowing her to break into a slow jog. The nearer she drew to her salvation, she began to notice that the light was flickering. It sputtered, shooting off beams of light in every direction. She tried to move faster, willing her legs to run, and just as she finally felt close enough to reach out her hand to try and touch it, the light crackled and disappeared.

“NO!” She shouted, tripping over her feet, her arm still outstretched. She fell to her knees. Hot tears welled up behind her eyes, and she balled her hands into fists. She beat at the ground, throwing fistfuls of dirt in every direction. She clutched at her hair and screamed until she doubled over and wept freely. She could have stayed there for eternity, despairing over the lost portal. Then she heard the skittering.

It sounded like thousands of small feet moving across the rocks. She looked up, trying to discern where the sound was coming from. Across the valley, she could make out small black dots crawling out of holes in the ground. She squinted her eyes, trying to get a better view. Whatever they were, they had eight legs, and she decided she didn’t want to stick around to find out anything else. She crawled backwards, trying to get away. When she found her footing, she took off in a sprint towards the distant rocky mountain range. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and she didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know that the creatures were gaining on her. The skittering was becoming louder, and she pumped her arms trying to cover more ground. 

As the mountain range came closer into view, she could discern a steep staircase between two outcroppings. She ran towards it, hoping to gain higher ground and put distance between her and the things on her tail. Just as she reached the first step, she chanced a glance back over her shoulder and gasped. The creatures following her were spiders, the biggest she had ever seen. They were the size of a large dog, with dripping fangs and multiple sets of small beady eyes, and the closest one was only a few yards behind her. Pax rocketed up the staircase, trying as hard as she could to leap up multiple steps at a time. She heard a screech, and felt herself being tugged backwards. She turned her head to see that one of the spiders had latched on to the tail of her peacoat. She shrugged it off her shoulders, watching with satisfaction as the spider tumbled down the stairs with the coat still clutched between its fangs, knocking over a few of its bretheren as it fell.

Pax could finally see the top of the staircase. She pushed forward, hoping to reach it before the spiders could catch up to her. When she finally crested the last stair, she found herself at the edge of a long plateau, with another pillar of swirling green light at the end. With the last amounts of energy she had left, she pushed herself into an all-out run. She cast one last glance behind her to see a swarm of spiders flooding the plateau, closing in fast. She poured all of her focus into reaching that beam of light, pushing herself to the breaking point. She could hear the spiders leaping over each other, lunging at her, trying to catch a piece of flesh between their black, glinting teeth. When she finally neared close enough to the bright, green, swirling mist, she closed her eyes. Then she leapt.

***

Pax felt the sensation of being stretched, like the distance between her head and her body was separated by miles. A loud roar echoed in her ears, until she heard a popping sound, and she was falling. All too soon her body made contact with the earth. She skidded forward on her shoulder, and her head scraped across the crusted ground. When she finally came to a stop, she kept her eyes clamped shut, unwilling to see if she had indeed escaped the horrors chasing her.

Something hot and wet was trickling down her face. She tried to bring her hand to her eyes to wipe it away, but her arm wouldn’t budge. She heard the sound of metal scraping against metal, and her eyes flew open. The light of the sun blinded her, but she could make out blurry silhouettes surrounding her. She blinked, trying to clear her vision.

“Seeker, wait! I don’t think that’s a demon, or at least, it doesn’t look like a demon I’ve ever seen,” said a gruff voice to her left.

“I would have to agree with Master Tethras. This creature looks far too human.” Another voice. This one was a deep baritone, rich and smooth.

As the area around her came into focus, Pax could see the tip of a sword pointed right at her throat. She followed the line of the sword to the hand then held it, then looked up to see the face of a woman. She had a vicious scar running down the side of her face, and her dark eyes were narrowed. The man on her left was short, with long hair pulled back in a ponytail. The bridge of his nose was crooked, like it had been broken more than once. The other man on her right had sharp features and…were his ears _pointed?_

“Jesus Christ,” Pax whispered, staring at the pale, slender man.

“Who?” He asked, raising his eyebrow and cocking his head.

“You there,” barked the woman with the sword, “take this woman to the lower level of the Chantry. We’ll deal with her after we’ve taken the prisoner to the Breach.” 

A man with a dark cowl came running forward and nodded to the woman with the sword. Pax felt the odd sensation of being lifted off the ground, and then her vision went black once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per my headcannon, Pax comes through the small rift on the mountain pass. Also, other Modern Girl in Thedas stories feature a language barrier. I've decided to make Common the same language as English (like the English version of the game), as this is a parallel universe which contains many similarities to Pax's world, as well as some stark differences, which will come later. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated. This chapter is a little bit shorter than the first, but that's because I wanted to split it up.


	3. Things Fall Apart

_A small breeze tickled her nose as she gazed up into the pale blue sky. The late afternoon sun beat down on her face and her tanned, bare shoulders. She breathed deep, taking in the scent of freshly cut grass and the slight perfume of summer wildflowers, which bloomed in patches behind her house. She looked around the backyard for Owen and spotted him running barefoot through the grass, chasing the family cat with a water gun._

_”I don’t think Mr. Turtle appreciates that very much, Owen,” she called, walking over to her son, who now stood looking dejected as the cat evaded him once again. He looked at the squirt gun in his hands, then over to the shrubs where the cat was hiding, then up at his mother._

_“Why?” he asked, his brow furrowing in thought._

_“Generally, cats don’t like water. That’s why we don’t give Mr. Turtle a bath like we would a dog,” Pax answered, ruffling her son’s shaggy brown hair. She smiled down at him, and a grin cut across his face. He aimed his squirt gun at her legs. “Don’t you dare!” Pax warned, backing away. Owen cocked his head and closed one of his bright blue eyes, trying to line her up in his sights, then pulled the trigger. A cold stream of water splashed across Pax’s knees._

_“You little snot!” she yelped, leaping backwards. “Oh, you’re gonna get it now…” She started forward, hunching down and reaching her arms out towards her toddler who squealed and tried to run away. He only managed to make it a few steps before Pax scooped him up off the ground and spun him through the air. She laid his wiggling, screeching form gently on the grass and began tickling his ribs mercilessly, only relenting when he needed to catch his breath._

_“What do you want to do now?” she asked him between giggles, “We have all day.”_

_“Can you push me on the swing?”_

_“Sure Bubba. Now, lets get you off the ground, huh?” She grabbed Owen under his arms and lifted him up, depositing him on her shoulders. They walked to the corner of the yard where the wooden swing set stood, right at the point where the lawn butted up against the neighbor’s farmland. Pax looked out over rows upon rows of corn, which had finally reached mid-thigh in height. In only a few weeks, the stalks would be taller than she was, which wasn’t saying much. She’d have remind Owen that he was not to wander into the cornfields under any circumstances._

_They reached the swing set, and Pax knelt down in the grass to let her son clamber off his perch. As soon as his little feet hit the ground, he took off toward the blue plastic swing. He climbed up and waited for Pax to buckle him in, letting his legs swing freely. “You’re getting too big for this one, bud. We need to teach you how to use the big boy swings,” Pax said, clicking the straps into place between his legs. When she was satisfied that he was secure, she stepped behind the swing and gave it a gentle push._

_”Higher, Mommy! I want to touch the sky,” Owen shouted, reaching his arms above his head. Pax grabbed the ropes and brought the swing to a halt, grinning down at her son. “Alright, bud. You asked for it.” She clutched the sides of his swing and slowly brought it back towards her._

_“One,” she drew out the number, watching Owen tense in anticipation._

_“Two,” This time Owen joined in, laughing as he counted._

_“Three!” Pax held on to the swing and ran forward. As the swing began to lift up over her head, she gave an almighty push and ran underneath it. Her momentum kept her going in a straight line, and she could hear Owen squealing and cackling as he was launched skyward. She jogged to a halt and turned around, a goofy smile still plastered on her face. She watched as the blue swing descended, falling back towards earth. Her smile faltered._

_The swing was empty._

_She walked towards the swing and inspected the buckles, which were still snapped firmly in place. “Owen…” she whispered, scanning her eyes over her yard. There was no sign of him._

_“Owen!” She yelled louder, twisting around, her eyes darting in every direction. “Owen… Owen please don’t hide.” she called again, her voice cracking._

_A loud BOOM cracked through the air. Pax started, then cast her gaze upward. Dark, rolling clouds loomed overhead, blocking out the sun, and a large, green floating maw rent the sky. The wind kicked up violently, howling like a freight train, causing stalks of corn to bend and snap. The swing set was wrenched from the ground and thrown across the yard, the wooden frame splintering as it rolled away. Large chunks of earth were lifted away to hover in the air._

_She fell to the ground as the wind whipped around her, clutching at the grass, trying to find purchase. “OWEN!” She screamed over and over again until her throat was raw. The light above her pulsed, the green glow burning brighter by the second, and the wind roared in her ears._

_She felt the earth beneath her start to give way. She closed her eyes, and waited for the light to swallow her whole._

***

Pax shuddered and gasped for air as she jolted awake. Her eyes flew open, and she found herself staring at a darkened stone ceiling. She took in a long, slow breath through her nose, then let the air escape past her lips, trying to calm her racing heart. After repeating her breathing exercises a few more times, she began to experiment with the movement in her limbs. She curled her toes and flexed her feet. Her legs were stiff, but otherwise uninjured. She brought her right hand in front of her face, then clenched and unclenched her fist, testing her fingers. When she tried to do the same with her left arm, she felt a burning pain in her shoulder, causing her to hiss through her teeth. The arm wouldn’t cooperate, and instead remained limp and unmoving at her side. She groaned and rubbed her eyes with her right hand. _Where am I?_

She propped herself up on her still-functional arm and glanced around. As she shifted her weight, she could feel something poking at her skin through her clothes. She looked down to see she was lying on a row of straw bales that had been pressed against a stone wall. A thin cotton blanket had been thrown over them to form a makeshift bed, while another blanket covered her lower body. As she looked over her left shoulder, she was met with rusted iron bars. She was in a prison cell.

The circular room beyond her cell was dark, lit only by flickering torches. The sound of dripping water echoed around the empty space. She could make out the faint outline of a heavy wooden door across the way. Between her cell and the door was a recessed floor, and in the middle, a giant sun had been carved into the stone. Beside the symbol lay a discarded pair of iron shackles. 

Pax was about to attempt standing when she heard the sound of angry voices just outside the room. She hurriedly flopped back down on the bales and pulled the blanket up under her chin. She closed her eyes and tried her damndest to feign sleep. The door flew open with a bang, followed by clanking metal and arguing voices. 

"Seeker, all I’m saying is that you should, oh, I don’t know, listen to what she has to say before waving a sword in her face?” 

“She is the second person to fall out of a rift, and you would have me be gentle?” 

Against her better judgement, Pax cracked an eye. She could see two figures standing in the middle of the room. She recognized the woman first. The short dark hair, the scar, the angry, intimidating stature. Of course, it would be hard to forget anyone who had a sword to your throat. The woman’s arms were crossed over what looked like a chest plate. _Is she seriously wearing armour?_ She glared down at man in front of her, a scowl etched across her face. Pax also recognized the man, although from this angle he seemed much shorter. _Must be a trick of the light._

“Your tract record with interrogations isn’t exactly spotless. You accused Strawberry of murdering the Divine, and now people are calling her the Herald of Andraste. And let’s not forget that you kidnapped and berated me-“

“You had better watch your tongue, dwarf, before I cut it out of your head.” 

_Dwarf?_

The man threw up his hands and took a step back, relenting. 

“All I’m saying is that you should let someone else handle this. Preferably someone who isn’t prone to stabbing things.” 

As if on cue, another figure stepped through the doorway, coming to stand beside the woman and the shorter man. Pax recognized him as well. The torchlight glinted off of his hairless scalp, and his arms were clasped behind his back. 

“Chuckles, please tell me you’re here to take over for the Seeker.” 

The newcomer merely shook his head. “I’m here to examine our latest guest, nothing more.” 

The slender man began walking towards the cell. Pax quickly closed her eye and tried to control her breathing, though she feared he might be able to hear her heartbeat, which was about to thud out of her chest. She heard the door to her cell creak open, then silence. She strained her ears, listening for footsteps or any other movement. Nothing happened. 

Soft fingertips brushed against her forehead, causing her to jump. She silently cursed her body for giving her away so easily. There was no point in continuing her ruse, so she opened her eyes. He stood next to her, blocking her view of the others, and hopefully, blocking their view of her. He was bent over her slightly, his pale eyes boring into her own. The shadows flickering across his face made his features look overly sharp, with high cheekbones and a jawline that looked like it could cut glass. He was close enough that she could almost count the smattering of freckles around his nose. She had to keep herself from gasping when her gaze fell on his ears. They were unnaturally long, coming to fine points behind his head. When he noticed her staring at his ears in disbelief, he quirked an eyebrow. 

“Has there been any change?” The woman’s voice rang out from across the room. 

“None. The prisoner still slumbers.” Pax gaped at him. He smirked. 

“Could we simply wake her?” The woman sounded impatient. 

The man straightened and began to walk out of her cell. As he turned away, Pax quickly clamped her eyes shut. 

“I understand your frustrations, Seeker Pentaghast, but waking her now could prove detrimental. While the injuries to her person aren’t fatal, we don’t know what state her mind will be in when she wakes. I suggest letting nature run its course. She isn’t going anywhere.” Pax heard an irritated huff, then the man continued. “If you prefer, I can remain here for a time and observe. If there are any changes, I’ll notify you at once.” 

“See that you do,” the woman grunted. Pax heard her heavy footfalls moving farther away. Before the door closed, she heard the woman groan. 

“Varric, why do you insist on following me?” 

“What? You’d rather me stay in the creepy dungeon with Chuckles?” 

“Yes, as a matter of fact I would.” 

“See, this is what I’m talking about, Seeker. That attitude of yours needs some serious readjustment…”

The door slammed and the voices faded. 

“You can open your eyes now.” 

Pax blinked and looked around. The bald man was standing at the opening to her cell, staring down at her with a bemused expression on his face. She hurriedly tried to sit up, and immediately fell back against the straw when her shoulder protested. “Damn this arm,” she croaked. Her voice was hoarse, and her throat scratchy from disuse. 

“Is it alright if I take a look?” he asked, taking a step forward. Pax contemplated him for a moment, then nodded. If he had wanted to kill her, she’d be dead already. 

The man knelt down beside her makeshift bed. “Can you feel this?” he asked, gently placed his long, slender fingers on her left bicep. 

“No, not really. My shoulder feels like it’s on fire, but the rest of my arm feels numb.” The man let out a soft _hmmm_ and proceeded to feel around her shoulder. She winced in pain when he tried to move her arm. 

“It seems to be dislocated. And if your labored breathing is any indication, you also have some damage to your ribcage. Aside from that, you have minor lacerations to your feet and a superficial cut on your head. I can heal you if you’d like.” 

“Heal me?” Pax stared at the man as he started to put his palms over her shoulder. A glowing blueish green light emanated from his hands. She panicked. “What the hell are you doing!?” she yelped, trying to scoot away from him, only to find the stone wall blocking her escape. 

“I’m trying to help you. I can manually set your shoulder back into place if you prefer, but I promise you it will be much less pleasant.” 

Pax eyed him cautiously as she settled back against her makeshift mattress. She let out a long sigh, then nodded. “Alright. Whatever you’re going to do…just do it.” The man shifted beside her and once again placed his palms against her shoulder. The light beneath his hands intensified, and she felt warmth seeping through her skin. She flinched when she felt a sharp _pop_ , then the man withdrew his hands, which had ceased to glow. 

“Try and move your arm now,” he prodded. Pax slowly lifted her forearm off the bed found her muscles to be much more cooperative. Her shoulder no longer hurt. In fact, it felt completely normal. 

“How did you do that?” she asked, staring down at her hand as she flexed her fingers. 

“Magic, of course. Though, healing spells are not my strong suit, and for that I apologize.” 

Pax was floored. Did he really take her to be some kind of fool? She stared at him, waiting for the laughter to come, for him to reveal that it had been some elaborate hoax. He only stared back at her with his head cocked to one side. 

“You’ve never seen magic before, have you? And the way you keep staring at my ears tells me you’ve probably never seen an elf before either.” 

Anger welled up inside her chest. She seethed. “Look, I don’t know what you’re are playing at, but I don’t have time for this. I need to get home.” Pax swung her legs over the side of the bed, clutching at her rib cage as she stood. She took two strides towards the still open cell door when the man waved his hand, and the cell door slammed shut in her face. She backed away, eyes wide. Anger quickly dissolved into fear as she found herself trapped once again. The man stood and took a step towards her, his head still cocked to the side as he studied her cowering form. 

“Please, I just want to go home,” she pleaded, holding her hands out in front of her to keep him from coming closer. “My son is waiting on me. Please, I don’t know how I ended up here, but I swear I’ve done nothing wrong. Just let me go.” She choked back a sob, keeping her eyes on the so-called elf. He stopped his advance, giving her a sad smile. 

“Unfortunately I don’t have the authority to let you go. However, I mean you no harm. The circumstances surrounding your appearance here are…strange, to say the least. You quite literally fell out of a rift. We are just as curious as you are as to why you’re here.” 

“A rift? You mean those big, green swirly things?” 

“Yes. We call them Fade Rifts. They are tears in the Veil, which separates our world from the Fade.” The man motioned back to the bed, gesturing for her to sit down. She slowly removed herself from the corner of her cell and lowered herself back down onto the straw bales. He sat beside her. “I have a proposal. Let me finish healing you, then you can ask me any question you wish, and I will answer to the best of my ability, so long as I can ask you a question in return.” 

“Fair enough,” Pax said as she nodded. “Can I just start now while you’re healing me?” The man considered her for a second, then assented. He reached up towards her face and moved a strand of blood crusted hair from her forhead. She winced slightly at the contact, but didn’t try to move away. 

“Okay, first question. What’s your name?” 

She heard him chuckle as he rested his palm against her forehead. The greenish light flared to life beneath his hand, and Pax felt the odd sensation of skin being knitted back together. 

“I suppose that’s simple enough. My name is Solas. May I ask yours?” 

“It’s Pax.” 

“Well, Pax, even under the circumstances, I’m glad to make your acquaintance. Now, I need you to lift your shirt so I can heal your ribs.” 

Pax flashed him an uneasy glance. The elf held up his hands. “I mean nothing untoward. The magic works best if used in direct contact with the skin.” Swallowing hard, Pax nodded again and glanced down at her clothes. Surprisingly, her button-down was still mostly tucked in to the waistband of her dress pants, but both were torn in places and covered in grime. She felt heat rising into her cheeks as she untucked her shirt and pulled it halfway up her torso, taking great care to keep her bra covered. She looked away as Solas worked, feeling him place his cool hands against her ribs. She could see the glow in her peripheral, followed by a sharp sting. When he pulled his hands away, the relief was immediate. She took a deep, unimpeded breath, and let her shirt fall back in place. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, reaching up to touch the healed cut on her head. Solas waved his hand dismissively. “It was the least I could do. Now, I believe it was your turn to ask a question.” 

“Alright. Are you actually an elf, or are you just fucking with me?” 

Solas started slightly at her blunt question, then quirked a smile. “I assure you that I am, indeed, an elf. I also have no intentions of messing with your head. So I was right in assuming you’ve never seen one before?” She shook her head. “Just in the movies.” Solas gave her a funny look, but didn’t question her further. 

“I guess that counted as a question, so it’s my turn again, right?” He nodded. “Okay…so where exactly am I?” 

“Currently you’re in a holding cell beneath a chantry in a little villiage called Haven. If you want a broader scale, you are located just within the borders of Ferelden at the foot of the Frostback Mountains.” 

“So are we in Europe? I’ve never heard of any of these places before.” 

“We are on Thedas. And I believe the questions now fall to me.” 

“Wait, wait. What do you mean ‘on Thedas’? Are you trying to tell me I ended up on another planet?” 

“Well, let’s try and work this out together. Where are _you_ from?” 

“I live in Ohio.” She quipped. Solas cocked an eyebrow again. “Or, if you want a broader scale,” she added, trying to imitate his rich baritone, “I live in a country called The United States, on the continent of North America, on a planet called Earth.” 

Solas regarded her thoughtfully. “Considering I’ve never heard of any of _those_ places, I think you may have answered your own question.” 

Pax leaned back against the stone wall and buried her face in her hands. “Sweet Jesus. Could things just stop getting weirder for two fucking seconds?” 

“That’s the second time you’ve said that name. Someone you know?” 

She snorted. “Not personally, no. So how did I wind up here?” 

“I was actually hoping you could answer that question for me. All I know is that you fell out of a rift as we attempted to close it.” 

Pax let out a sigh. “This is going to be a kind of a long story.” 

As she explained, Solas listened intently, only interjecting to ask what a car was. She did her best to describe it, and he eventually allowed her to move on. She told him about the rift in the woods, and how it pulled her through to a place she’d never even seen in her nightmares. She told him about the spiders, and how she jumped through the second rift to escape, which apparently spit her out at their feet. As she ended her story, Solas stood up and began to pace around her cell, his hands folded behind his back once more. 

“If what you say is true, the implications are innumerable. Not only are you the second person in a matter of days to walk in the Fade and survive, you were also able to use it to cross over from another world. There has never been a recorded instance of this happening before.” 

Pax watched him pace. She couldn’t tell if he was distraught or excited, but both options made her nervous. “I’m just as dumbfounded as you are. All I want to do is get back home.” Solas stopped pacing and ran a hand over his chin. As if he’d made up his mind, waved his hand and opened the cell door once more. He walked out and yanked it closed behind him. 

“Wait! You can’t just leave me here. Where are you going?” Pax called after his retreating form, leaping up to grab the iron bars. As he reached the heavy wooden door, he turned back towards her. 

“I have to fetch the Seeker. I’ll do my best to delay, but in the meantime, try and think of a way to prove your story. She will be….much less apt to believe you.” With that, Solas strode out the door, shutting it with a reverberating bang. 

Groaning loudly, Pax threw herself back down onto the bed. She wished she had her cellphone, because that would be a surefire way to prove her story, but it was in her coat pocket, which was apparently in a place called the _Fade_.

As she rolled onto her side, she felt something small and hard press against her thigh. Reaching down into pocket, her fingers wrapped around something small and plastic. A small smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. In lieu of her cellphone, this was the next best thing she could think of.

She had a plan. Now she just had to pray that it worked.


	4. The Centre Cannot Hold

The issue with being held captive in a dungeon, Pax discovered, wasn't t the dank, musty smell or substandard living conditions. No. The worst part was being unable to tell what time it was. There weren't any windows – the only available source of light being the incessant flicker and sputter of torches. But then, it wouldn't be much of a dungeon otherwise. In all of the fantasy books she's read, and even in some memoirs, dungeons were usually underground. Depriving a person of something as basic as being able to discern night from day was a good tactic, as Pax was already feeling the strain on her sanity.

As she waited for Solas to return, Pax either paced the small confines of her cell or laid back on her makeshift bed. She entertained the idea of trying to pass the time by sleeping, but she wasn’t tired. Each time she closed her eyes, she felt overwhelmed and afraid. She was also desperately hungry. The last time she ate was during her lunch break at work, and who knew how long ago that had been. She didn't want to be caught off guard again, so she kept her mind occupied by counting cracks in the stone ceiling. When that failed to amuse her, she took out her little plastic item and twirled it between her fingers, or used it to tap various rhythms on her palm.

She had just started pacing again, for what felt like the tenth time at least, when the heavy wooden doors finally crashed open. Pax rushed to the bars, gripping them tightly, and tried her best to maintain a stony expression as she faced her captors.

The first to enter the dungeon was the Seeker. Following behind her, somewhat to her relief, was Solas, as well as the shorter man from earlier. Another figure also entered the room. By the silhouette, Pax assumed the new person was a woman, but it was difficult to tell as her hood obscured most of her features. Two heavily armored soldiers entered behind the rest and closed the door.

The soldiers made their way across the circular room and unlocked the door to Pax’s cell. They held the wrought iron gate open, and motioned for her to exit. As she crossed the threshold, the guards grabbed her arms and guided her towards the center of the room. Their grips were firm, but not painful. When Pax stood directly over the sun symbol, the soldiers put their hands on her shoulders and pressed down, forcing her to her knees.

Pax went willingly, even though the unforgiving rock grated against her knees. Resisting would probably only get her into more trouble. She looked up to see the Seeker stride forward, coming to a halt at the tip of a jagged sunbeam, only inches in front of where she knelt. At the Seeker’s approach, the guards took a step back, holding their posts just behind Pax’s feet.

“Make no attempt to flee, or I will cut you down before you can take a single step.” The Seeker’s deep voice echoed through the dungeon. Her accent was thick – Pax tried and failed to place it – but she enunciated each word clearly and with force. Her arms were crossed over her chest plate, and she glared down at Pax, her eyes full of fire and conviction, and maybe a hint of annoyance. 

Pax nodded while maintaining eye contact with the intimidating woman in front of her. She didn’t want to appear meek or afraid, but if anyone touched her, she would be betrayed by the way her body trembled. The Seeker looked unamused. “Tell us why you’re here,” she asked, glaring hard at Pax.

“I…I don’t know why I’m here. I barely know how I came to this place, or where _here_ even is.”

“You lie!” The sneer cut across the Seeker’s face as her hand went to her sword. Pax tried to reign in her fear as the woman’s knuckles tightened around the hilt. She heard the short man behind the Seeker snort and mutter something to Solas that sounded like, “I told you so.”

“Cassandra, please.” The shrouded woman stepped forward and placed a hand on the Seeker’s arm. The Seeker, Cassandra, stared at the other woman for a moment, then acquiesced. The Seeker backed away, and the other woman sat on her haunches and leaned down slightly, coming eye to eye with Pax.

“Your name is Pax, yes? It’s not a name I’ve heard before.” Pax tried to glance at Solas, how much he’d told them and trying to draw some semblance of strength from his presence, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. She was on her own.

“It means ‘peace.’” Pax answered. The woman in front of her let out a small “hmm”. Pax caught a glimmer of icy blue eyes and red hair beneath the shadows that concealed her face. The woman continued, “So how does someone named Peace end up falling into a warzone?” Pax sighed and shook her head.

“I’ve already told you, I don’t know _why_ I ended up here, only _how_.”

“Well then, tell us what you know. Start from the beginning.”

Pax squeezed her eyes shut, silently praying to any higher power that could hear her for these people to believe her and not kill her for sounding like a loon. But then again, she was apparently stuck in another world with elves, dwarves, and magic. She wasn’t entirely convinced that she wasn’t crazy. She huffed and pinched the bridge of her nose, drawing up the courage to tell her story to the strange woman. She knew, in her gut, that she should be more terrified of the woman in front of her than the Seeker, but the woman’s voice was soft, musical, and utterly disarming.

“Okay…” Pax began, opening her eyes to meet the other woman’s stare once again, “I was on my way home from my job. There was a snowstorm, and I got into an accident. I was trying to call for help when I heard a bang, and saw a green light coming from the woods. Being too curious for my own good, I went to check it out. It was a rift, I guess? That’s what you call them, right? Anyway, it pulled me through, and I ended up in this place straight out of a nightmare. I tried to go back through the rift that took me there, but it disappeared, and then I was being chased by these monstrously huge spiders. I saw another rift and dove through it, which landed me here, quite literally.”

As Pax spoke, the other woman stood and stared at the ceiling, holding her chin in one hand as she listened. Pax also noticed that the Seeker was looking more irritated the longer she spoke.

“Leliana, you cannot be seriously considering her story.”

“And why not?” The woman, Leliana, turned to face the Seeker. “After everything we’ve seen in the past few days, this is truly so unbelievable? Look at the Herald. She also walked through the Fade and lived.”

“But the Herald does not claim to be from another world. There is no evidence this place even exists.”

“Please…please wait. I have proof, if you’ll allow me to show you.” The two arguing women turned to stare at Pax. Leliana nodded, giving her permission. Pax dug around in the pocket of her dress slacks and pulled out what she hoped would be her saving grace.

It was a lighter. Pax held it up between two fingers to show the women. Leliana cocked her head to the side, but didn’t speak. Cassandra continued to glare. Pax closed her fingers around the blue plastic bottom, and put her thumb against the wheel. She flicked it, and a small flame came to life.

Cassandra took a step back and, as was her habit, gripped her sword. “You didn’t tell us she was a mage!” She growled at Solas. “That’s because she is not,” Solas replied. One corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile as he watched Pax, the flame still held aloft in her shaking fist.

“It’s not magic,” Pax said quickly, taking her thumb off the red switch to let the flame vanish. “It’s…it’s a tool, I guess. An invention from my world.” She held the lighter out again so those gathered could get a better look. “This blue part, here. It’s made of something called plastic. It’s hollow, and the chamber holds a liquid that emits highly flammable fumes. This wheel, when it’s turned with enough speed and force, rubs against a small piece of flint to cause a spark, which then ignites the fumes to create a flame. It’s science and engineering, not…not magic.”

Leliana looked intrigued. She stepped forward and extended her hand out to Pax, who gently placed the lighter in her palm. Leliana held it up to the light and examined it carefully before trying it herself. It took her a few tries, and Pax had to explain that you had to roll your thumb over the wheel and onto the red button in quick succession, but soon Leliana was consistently producing flame.

Pax took the initiative to make a joke, since she was somewhat certain they weren’t going to decapitate her in the next few minutes. “I’d have shown you my cellphone, but I’m pretty sure it’s serving as a chew toy for a giant spider right now.” Leliana raised an eyebrow. Cassandra only grunted.

“A cellphone?”

“It’s a device that’s small enough to carry in your pocket. You can use it to talk to anyone, anywhere in the world. It transmits your voice, and on some phones you can even see the person-“

“That’s enough! I’m sorry, Leliana, but how much more of this are we to be subjected to? There is no way such a thing exists, let alone this other world.”

“Cassandra, take a moment to look at her. Look at her clothes. We’ve never seen that style, let alone the fabrics. Listen to her voice, to her accent, to her expressions. Look at this,” she said, holding out the lighter to Cassandra, who recoiled from it as if it were cursed. Leliana put her hand on the Seeker’s shoulder. “There is no way anyone from this world could have made this. We’ve never seen these types of materials before. I know how you feel, Cassandra, but now is not the time to let faith and fear cloud our judgement.”

The Seeker wrenched herself away from Leliana’s touch. She shot Pax another withering glance before throwing the door to the dungeon open and storming out. Leliana shook her head as she watched the Seeker flee. She turned back to Pax and smiled sadly. “Do not take her roughness personally. Your appearance here has greatly shaken Cassandra’s faith. You’ve challenged everything she’s ever believed, and she will not be the only one disturbed by your existence. That is why I must ask for you to keep this quiet. We are already in the middle of a war. Testing people’s beliefs at this time could devastate our mission.”

That…sounded reasonable enough. Pax knew if something like this had occurred on Earth, it would cause a worldwide pandemic for the religious majority. She nodded at Leliana.

“Thank you for understanding. I’ll come up with a suitable backstory for you, but in the meantime, you’ll need to look like you fit in.” Leliana motioned to the guards, who hadn’t yet moved from their posts. Leliana gave them instructions to fetch clothes for Pax, and they disappeared from the dungeon. Leliana made to follow them, but realized she still held Pax’s lighter. She moved to return it, but Pax held up her hands.

“Keep it, if you like. My smokes are somewhere back on Earth, so I currently have no use for it.” Leliana considered her for a moment, then gazed down at the lighter.

“This could make life much easier for many people here. I’ll give it to some of our researchers and see if they can replicate the design.” She smiled at Pax, then turned on her heel and swiftly made her exit.

As Leliana silently turned the corner and disappeared from view, Pax felt all of her resolve break into a million pieces. “Oh thank fuck,” she whispered. She clutched herself and leaned forward, shaking violently, and trying to hold back the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. Part of her felt relieved that at least one of the women believed her story, and that they weren’t going to kill her, but that still hadn’t changed the fact she was stuck in another world. She didn’t want to “fit in” here. She wanted someone to show her how to get home. She wanted to hold her son, to bury her face in his soft brown hair, and feel his little arms wrapped around her neck. At the very least, she wanted to let him know she was alright, that she would find a way back to him. Pax choked on her sobs, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. As she tried to blink away the tears welling up in her eyes, she heard a shuffling to her left. She turned her head to see Solas still standing there, arms behind his back as always, but looking a little uncomfortable. The shorter man was there as well. She had forgotten all about their presence during her interrogation, as her focus was mainly on making sure Cassandra didn’t run her through.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry,” Pax stammerd, hurriedly trying to wipe the tears from her face.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. You did quite well, all things considered.” Solas moved forward and held out a hand, helping her up off the ground. Her knees were stiff from kneeling for so long, so she tottered a little, but eventually found her balance.

“Hell, you convinced our Spymaster. That deserves a drink, if there was ever a reason.” The shorter man chimed in, coming to stand beside Solas. “Varric Tethras – rogue, storyteller, and occasional unwelcome tag-a-long – at your service.”

Pax stared at the shorter man. She hadn’t been able to get a good view of him either time she’d seen him before. His long hair was a strawberry blonde, and his shirt was unbuttoned enough to reveal a thick patch of matching colored chest hair. His shoulders were broad, much larger than anyone she’d ever seen. As for his height, the top of his head came up to Pax’s chin. She was exceedingly short for a normal human woman, coming in at only 5’1”. Part of her felt relieved to not be the shortest one in the room. Varric caught her staring and winked, and she couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I have a feeling you give that greeting to every woman you meet, Varric,” Pax said, smiling at him. Something about his attitude made her feel a thousand times better.

“I may have said it once or twice before.” He said, shrugging his shoulders and grinning.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Am I exceedingly handsome? The answer is yes.”

“Well, I’m glad to know you think so highly of yourself,” Pax chuckled, “but I actually wanted to know if you’re really a dwarf.”

“What, you think I stay this short for kicks? Yes, I’m a dwarf. I’m assuming they don’t have dwarves where you come from?”

“Nope. We have short people, but nothing quite like you.”

“Consider that a blessing,” Solas said, shooting a smirk at Varric.

One of the guards from earlier came back into the dungeon and handed Pax a bundle of clothes as well as a pair of boots, then left just as fast. Pax looked down at the clothes in her hands, then backed up to the two men in front of her.

“Chuckles and I will wait outside the door. Come find us when you’re dressed.” At that, Varric and Solas walked out of the dungeon, gently closing the door behind them.

***

Pax walked out of the dungeon wearing a simple forest green tunic that came down to mid-thigh and a pair of dark tights. She’d kept her own bra, but changed into the underwear they’d given her, and traded out her flats for a pair of unwieldy boots that seemed to have a couple holes in them, but they were better than nothing. She wasn’t sure what to do with the overly long strip of cloth they’d given her, so she rolled it up and placed it in her boot. She figured she’d ask either Solas or Varric later as to what its function was.

As she opened the dungeon door, she found Varric and Solas waiting for her on the landing just outside. The motioned for her to follow, and lead her up a steep flight of stairs. When they reached the door at the top, they pushed it open, and Pax found herself standing in what looked to be the inside of a church. Light streamed in through the stain glass windows, and multiple people in funny hats and robes flitted about. Other people were inside as well, either standing chatting or moving boxes. There was a strong scent of burning incense wafting through the air. She wanted to stop and examine everything, but Solas and Varric hadn’t noticed her pause, and were almost out of the building. She jogged to catch up with them.

When they pushed open one of the large wooden doors that lead outside, Pax almost turned tail and ran back in. A large green swirling mass hung from the sky, with crumbling debris circling around it. Her mouth hung open as she gazed at it, watching it slowly twist around itself.

“That’s…that’s what I fell out of?” She asked to the men, who had both stopped to watch her.

“No. What you’re seeing now is what we call the Breach,” Solas said, gazing up at the massive, swirling light. “It’s the first and largest tear in the Veil, and it spawns the smaller fade rifts, like the one you entered and the one you came through to get to this world. As it stands, the Breach is currently stable, but its continued presence weakens other areas, which are continuing to rupture, producing more fade rifts and demons.”

“Demons? Like honest-to-goodness, cloven hoof and horns demons?”

“Well, I can’t say I’ve seen any that look similar to what you’re describing, but yes. The rifts create doorways, allowing demons to come into our world.”

“No, no, no. Elves and dwarves I can handle, but no one mentioned demons. I didn’t sign up for this shit.”

“You left out the dragons,” Varric said, shooting a smirk in her direction.

Pax started to take a step backward, but Solas placed a hand on her shoulder, preventing her retreat.

“You do not have anything to fear. The Breach is stable, and the demons from the original explosion have already been dealt with.”

“If she’s all wound up now, imagine what will happen when she lays eyes on a Qunari.”

She glared at both of them for a moment, but Varric’s smile was slightly infectious. She smiled back weakly, and let them guide her through the town.

***

The village of Haven was bustling. For the lack of buildings in the area, there seemed to be a great many people. Solas pointed out the apothecary, the merchant stand, the requisitions officer, and a number of other places that had Pax’s head spinning as she tried to take it all in. There was a distant sound of metal bashing against metal from outside the walls, and occasionally some shouts would cut through the air. The smell of horses and unwashed bodies would take some getting used to. She tried not to let her eyes linger on the children who were running through the streets. Their smiling, dirty faces made her heart clench, so she kept her head down.

Varric directed them all into a little tavern, and they took up seats at a small table in the corner as he went to the bar to order them food and drinks. Pax watched the various patrons, studying their dress, their body language. Some soldiers were gathered at another table, eating a meal and cat-calling the servers. A few of the villagers sat at the bar, speaking to one another in hushed tones with their brows furrowed. She surveyed them until Solas’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“I won’t pretend to understand what you’re going through.”

Pax looked down at her feet and wrapped her arms back around her body. She could feel his gaze burning into her head, but she didn’t dare look up. If she met his gaze and saw pity there, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold back the stinging behind her eyes and the tightness in her throat.

“I cannot be responsible for your safety while you’re here. But know that if you ever have questions, all you have to do is ask. With whatever resources I can spare, I will help you find a way home, Pax. I promise.”

Varric finally returned, his arms laden with three steaming plates of food. She didn’t recognize the slab of meat on her plate, but the vegetables looked like steamed potatoes and carrots. _It’s edible, and it’s hot. Who cares what it is?_ Varric disappeared again for a moment before coming back to the table with three frothy mugs. Pax eyed the contents warily. Beneath the foam, the liquid was dark, and the smell alone could have singed her nose hair. She cautiously brought it up to her lips and took a sip. It was…harsh, but not entirely unpleasant. She took another sip, which didn’t seem as bad as the first. Soon, she was gulping down her drink, not realizing until she wiped the remnants off her chin just how thirsty she’d been.

“You’re the only person I’ve seen chug a Fereldan Ale like that,” Varric chuckled as she placed her now empty mug on the table. He motioned to a server for another pint.

Pax only smiled at him, then began to dig into her food. Whatever passed for meat was a little rubbery, and completely unseasoned, but to Pax, nothing had ever tasted so wonderful. She barely took time to breathe between bites, trying to sate her hunger as fast as she could. She ignored the bemused expressions of Varric and Solas, eating until the plate was completely cleared. When she was finished, she pushed the plate away from her and sat back in her chair. Neither of the men had even eaten half of what was on their plate. She grabbed for her mug of ale to discover that it had once again run dry. She glanced apologetically at Varric, who laughed at her as he once again motioned for another ale.

“Do you eat like that all the time?” he asked as the server came to clear away her used dishes.

“Not always, but I don’t even remember the last time I had food, so…” she shrugged.

“Well, now that you’ve eaten, we should probably get you up to speed on all the weird shit that’s going on.”

Pax leaned forward, taking more care to nurse her ale as she listened to Varric talk. Even though she tried to take in all of his stories, what Solas had said to her kept repeating in her mind.

_I cannont be responsible for your safety…_

She glanced at the elf, who was watching Varric. A long, slow sigh escaped her lips, and she turned her attention back to the dwarf, who was gesturing wildly with his hands.

_What the hell have I gotten myself in to?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pax = Latin for "peace"
> 
> Any in-game dialogue used is property of Bioware.
> 
> This is not beta'd, so if you catch a mistake, please let me know. I also appreciate constructive criticism.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos, comments, or bookmarked this story so far. You're my lifeblood.


	5. Mere Anarchy is Loosed Upon the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! A little bit of a short chapter to do some more character building, and we see a little more of Pax's backstory. We also catch a quick glimpse of everyone's favorite Commander.

The table before them was now littered with multiple empty mugs. Varric had regaled Pax with hours of stories on the history of Thedas. He told her about the current war, the disaster at the Conclave, and the newly formed Inquisition, which helped her understand why she had been under suspicion when she tumbled out of the rift. Her mind was reeling – in part from the Ferelden Ale, which was much stronger than she had anticipated, and also from the vast amount of knowledge she had to retain in such a short amount of time. Solas had also chimed in on occasion, telling her about the Elves, about the history surrounding magic, and the Fade. She also learned about the various religions on Thedas, particularly about Andraste, since Andrastianism seemed to be the most prevalent among humans. It was all too much, and she was almost relieved when one of Leliana’s agents came to fetch her. She stood from the table and gave a small wave to the other two men, and followed the hooded agent out of the tavern.

The night was bitterly cold, and snow was falling in steady, fat flakes. She clutched herself as she tried to scurry after the agent, wishing her coat wasn’t lost in the stupid Fade. She took a moment to look up at the sky, and was taken aback by the beauty of not one, but two moons. The light from the twin masses against the white snow cast a pale light over everything, and it would have been stunning if not for the Breach, which shone ominously in the distance.

The agent took Pax to the Chantry and held open one of the double doors for her. She stepped inside, happy to be out of the cold, and followed the agent straight through to another set of double doors. As they walked, Pax looked around. It was late enough that the Chantry had drastically changed from a bustling hub to a quiet spot of reverence. Flickering torch light shone off smooth stone pillars, and there was the heady scent of incense along with the familiar trace of old books. Pax spied a few villagers kneeling in front of a large statue of a woman holding a bowl of fire. _That must be Andraste,_ Pax thought as she listened to the hushed sounds of their whispered prayers. She was suddenly conscious of her echoing footsteps as she walked across the stone hall and she tried to step lighter, not wanting to intrude on their chant. 

When they finally reached the second set of doors, the agent knocked twice, then waited. Pax heard a lilting voice call, “Enter,” and the agent pushed open the door. Inside, two women were waiting. Pax recognized the first as Leliana. The second woman was a stranger, but a gorgeous stranger. Her black hair was put up in an elaborate braided bun, and her olive skin was enhanced by the somewhat garish gold and blue outfit she wore, with ruffles and puffed shoulders to boot. The new woman also held what looked like a clipboard with a candle perched precariously on one end. Pax sheepishly stepped into the room, silently thankful for the large stone table separating her from the two waiting women. The door behind her closed with a thud, and Pax turned around to see the agent had left, leaving her alone and completely at the mercy of these women, who were eyeing her like vultures. _At least the Seeker isn’t here._

“Pax, I’d like you to meet Lady Josephine. She is the Inquisition’s Ambassador, who is charged with gaining allies amongst the noble families and maintaining our reputation,” said Leliana, who gestured to the other woman. “Hullo,” Pax said, smiling meekly and giving a slight wave. Josephine simply inclined her head, a small but professional smile pulling at the corners of her perfectly rounded lips.

“So, Josie, what do you think?” Leliana chimed, slowly stalking around the table towards Pax, letting her fingers trail across the large map sprawled across it. Josephine let out a small “Hmmm,” and tapped her pursed lips with a manicured finger. “There are a few options. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark complexion. That gives us at least three countries,” Josephine said finally as she stepped around the table as well and gave Pax an appraising look, “But it’s difficult to tell which would be best without knowing more.”

Leliana nodded slightly as she came up beside Pax. She stared into Pax’s face, examining her features closely. Pax fought the urge to take a step backwards, as both women were now far too close for comfort.

“Tell me about yourself,” Leliana started, resting one hip against the stone table.

“I..uhm. Well….what do you want to know? That’s kind of a broad question.” Pax stammered.

“Start with the basics. What did you do for fun? What was your job? Things like that.”

Pax thought for a moment, trying to decide how best to answer their questions. _Keep it simple._ “Okay, well, I was a writer, I guess. I worked for a company, writing marketing materials for the things they sold. Before that, I spent my time working in restaurants while I was in college. I spent a majority of my life as a student. I studied books written in my language, and the religions of my world. I didn’t really have much free time. I liked to read, and I’d go out with my friends to a bar once in a while, but mostly I worked and stayed at home with my family.”

“Are you married?” Leliana asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Pax stared at her feet, fiddling with the wedding band she still wore on her left hand. “I….I was. My husband died about six months ago. Mostly my family consists of my parents and my son.”

Josephine looked horror-struck. “I’m so sorry to hear about his passing,” she said, placing a hand to her chest.

“It’s fine. He was sick for a long time before he died.” It was mostly the truth. Pax hated this question, hated seeing the looks of pity her answer earned. All she wanted in that moment was for the floor open up and swallow her whole.

There was silence in the room while the women stared at the floor, the only sound coming from the hurried scratch of Josephine’s pen against parchment.

“How old is your son?” Leliana asked, trying to change topic.

“He just turned four.”

“You seem so young to have been married, let alone have a child who has seen four years already,” Josephine exclaimed. “How old are you, exactly?”

“Twenty four.”

Leliana and Josephine raised their eyebrows at each other, then continued.

“Is there any magic in your family?”

“No. Magic doesn’t exist in my world. It’s all science and technology, like the lighter I showed you. My father is a white farmer who served in the military, and my mother is Native American woman who works in a factory. We’re just average, middle-class people.”

“We can scratch Tevinter off our list, then. We wouldn’t want her to be ostracized when we’re trying to get her to fit in. What’s left, Josie?”

“We still have Antiva on the list, but her accent doesn’t really lend itself to an Antivan background.”

Leliana stalked around Pax, eyeing her up and down. She stopped when she noticed Pax’s ears and brought a gloved hand up to move away a few tendrils of hair. Pax shivered as the chilled leather made contact with her skin.

“Your ears are pierced. Tell me, do you have any other piercings? Tattoos?” Leliana asked, staring down at Pax, who was at least a half foot shorter than the imposing woman.

“Yes..I…I do. My left ear is pierced all the way up, and I also have this pierced,” Pax said, pinching her septum. “As for tattoos, I have some on my arms, and one on my thigh, as well as one that covers most of my back.....What?” Pax noticed the two women were grinning from ear to ear. Leliana let out a giggle as she turned to look at Josephine, who circled something on her clipboard.

“You know, Leliana,” Josephine said, letting the words drip slowly off her tongue, “I hear Rivain is lovely this time of year.”

***

Pax stretched her arms above her head as she finally walked out of the Chantry. She had no idea what time it was, but it must have been extremely late, as hardly any fires were lit and there wasn’t much sound coming from the tavern. The light from the moons had waned, allowing the stars a better chance to shine. They glimmered above her. She tried to see if she recognized any constellations, but came up empty handed.

Leliana said one of her agents had put up a tent for her inside the village walls, right beside Varric’s. “It’s right below the quartermaster’s stand and my tent. You can’t miss it,” she’d said. Pax looked around, trying to figure out which path to take. Varric had pointed out the quartermaster before they’d gone to the tavern, but everything was distorted in dark. She finally decided to start walking forward when she saw a dark mass moving up the path towards the Chantry. She froze, gaping at the massive black figure as it came closer, her heart in her throat as she listened to the sound of crunching snow, which was drawing closer by the second.

The figure didn’t even slow down as it neared Pax, and instead side-stepped around her. She turned to watch as the person reached the Chantry door and tugged it open. Pax raised an arm to shield her eyes from the light that spilled out from inside the Chantry, catching a brief flash of golden hair and a billowing red cloak before the person disappeared behind the door. She was once again left alone in the dark. _Well, that was certainly strange._

Shrugging off her brief encounter, Pax decided to take the right-hand path. She narrowly avoided running headlong into a large, wooden desk, but eventually stumbled her way around to the area below. She saw two battered canvas tents with a small cooking fire in front of them. The fire had died down, and was nothing more than some smoldering embers and a few small patches of flame. Varric was sitting on a small stool in front of it, smoking a pipe and staring in to the sputtering yellow tongues.

“So, what’s the official story?” He asked as she approached, not even turning to face her.

“I’m a barmaid from Rivain. Travelled to Ferelden when I had enough of cleaning up after drunken pirates and washing blood off the floors. That’s the short version, anyway.” Pax said, rubbing her eyes. Varric pulled up another stool and placed it next to the fire. He threw a few more chunks of wood on and the flames started to spring back to life. Pax sat down on the stool and held her hands out to the fire, shuddering as the heat seeped into her skin.

“I know a woman from Rivain. She was definitely a character, and a downright cheat at Wicked Grace,” He said, grinning. “It’s a good backstory. It’s not a well-known place, and it’s dangerous, meaning most people excluding pirates and the short-sighted Chantry sisters, don’t bother to venture there. Plus, barmaids are pretty much invisible. No one will question you, so you probably won’t even have to tell your story past ‘I’m from Rivain.’”

Pax shrugged and ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know if I can do this, Varric. Why do I need a backstory anyway? Why can’t they just find a way to send me home?”

Varric sighed and shook his head. “You physically walked through the Fade, and the first time that happened, it started the Blight. People don’t like to mess with the Fade for that particular reason. And, let’s not forget, you’re the only person to fall out of the Fade claiming they were from a different world. I think it’s safe to say no one knows how to send you home, and no one can afford to try until that thing,” he said, gesturing towards the Breach with his pipe, “is closed. Once we figure out a way to seal it, we’ll start trying to get you back to your world.”

She stared at the fire in silence. She could feel Varric staring at her, but she wasn’t ready to meet his gaze. She knew what he said was true, but she didn’t like hearing it. How long would it take for them to close the Breach? Months? Years? She couldn’t afford to wait that long. She’d have to start looking for a way on her own.

Varric stood up and stretched, then patted her on the shoulder. “I think I’m going to turn in. You should do the same. It’ll be a long day tomorrow. Shit, every day here is a long day.”

“Night, Varric.” She said, watching him disappear into his tent. She wasn’t sure what to make of the dwarf. He had shown her unexpected kindness, when he knew virtually nothing about her. He hadn’t even made it a point to pester her with questions about her world. Perhaps he wanted to wait until she was comfortable enough to talk about it, or maybe he just didn’t care. Whatever his reasons, Pax was thankful.

When she had warmed up enough, she retreated from the fire to go to her own tent. She opened her tent flap and found a flimsy bedroll laid on the ground, along with a bucket and whatever passed for soap in this world. She had no idea where to go to get water, especially at night, so she decided to put off washing until the morning. She tied the flaps back together to keep out the cold, then crawled into her bed roll, which was much cozier than she had expected. As she stared up at the canvas ceiling, she thought of her son.

She mapped out Owen’s face in her mind, remembering the last time she’d seen him. She had taken him to preschool, holding his hand as they walked in to his classroom. She signed him in, then helped him take off his book bag and coat, and hung them up in his cubby. He showed her a finger painting he’d done the previous day, which was displayed on one of the classroom walls. He had been so proud of it, his blue eyes shining as he told her that the amorphous blob of green paint was supposed to be a dragon. She’d bent down and gave him a hug and a kiss, telling him she had to go, cutting his story short because she was running late for work.

She should have stayed. She shouldn’t have hurried. She should have let him finish his story. She should have hugged him longer. She should have told him she loved him over and over again, because now she was stuck in a world where dragons really existed, and she was scared out of her mind.

Pax rolled over in her bedroll, her mind a torrent of “should haves” and “what ifs” until she drifted off into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So..I think I've finally decided to add some smut later in this work. As I said, this will be a slow burn, so don't expect it right away. I'll also make sure the smut chapters are marked and can easily be skipped over if smut isn't your thing.
> 
> Also, once I figure out how to hyperlink in here, I'll add some to show you my inspiration Pax's many, many tattoos.
> 
> Hope you have enjoyed the ride so far! Comment/Kudos/Constructive Criticism is always appreciated! This is not beta'd so please let me know if you catch any errors.


	6. The Blood-Dimmed Tide is Loosed, and Everywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pax gets a job meets the Herald.

A muffled thud, like someone hitting a dirty rug with a stick to shake out the dust, pulled Pax from her broken sleep. She kept her eyes shut as she was yanked back to consciousness, praying the sound would go away and she could get another few minutes of shut-eye. Her eyelids were stuck shut, crusted over from a night of tears, and she could feel the salt clinging to her cheeks. Her head throbbed. _I need to stop getting piss drunk in order to sleep._

The sound kept going, a soft thunk, thunk, thunk, every few seconds. She groaned and shifted. When had her mattress become so terribly uncomfortable? She needed to wake up and Owen ready so she could get him to school on time. He was obviously waiting on her. ”Go to the bathroom and use the potty. I’ll be there in a minute to give you your bath,” she called out, eyes still closed as she dug her fingers into her temples.

“That’s real nice of you to offer, but I’m afraid I’ve already done those. Now, rise and shine.” Varric’s voice cut through her drowsiness. Her eyes flew open as she bolted upright from her bedroll, and she immediately regretted it. Her head swam and her pulse roared in her ears. “For fucks sake,” she muttered, holding her head in her hands. She stood up slowly, trying not to lose her balance, and shuffled towards the tent flaps. Varric must have been smacking the canvas to wake her, because when she stepped outside, she found him with a stick in one hand, and a cloth-wrapped package in the other.

“Glad to see you among the living,” he said as he watched her stretch and rub at her stiff joints. She squinted, trying to shield her eyes against the harsh glare of the sun and the brightness of the surrounding snow. “I’d barely call this living,” Pax replied with a snort, “I feel like I’ve been hit by a freight train.” Varric raised his eyebrow at the use of her home-world terminology, but didn’t question it. Instead, he pressed the package into her hands. “Leliana left this for you. Told me to make sure you got it.” Pax took the package and nodded. It was heavy, and it jingled slightly as she shifted its weight in her hands.

”Come on, then. You can open it while we eat breakfast. Well, it’s technically lunch time, but I convinced Flissa to save you some pastries.” Varric said, winking at her before he turned and strode towards the tavern with Pax at his heels.

The tavern was mostly empty save for a few weary recruits. Pax took a seat at a nearby table, while Varric wandered up to the bar to talk with Flissa. Pax fell into her chair with a sigh and set her package on the table. She eyed it warily, unsure of whether to open it in such a public place. She picked idly at the cloth covering, torn by curiosity and her need for self-preservation and privacy.

Varric wandered over to Pax, carrying a plate full of puffy pastries and fruit. The smell alone was enough to get her stomach rumbling. She grabbed the first pastry on the plate and almost shoved the whole thing in her mouth, letting out a rumbling “Mmmm” to show her satisfaction. The crust was perfectly flaky, and the inside featured some sort of semi-sweet cream and fruit mixture. It reminded her of a danish, and she was delighted to find something so similar. She was licking the residue off her fingers when she heard Varric’s deep chuckle beside her. Her face went scarlet as she casually took her fingers out of her mouth.

“I’ll never fail to be surprised when it comes to your eating habits,” he said with a grin. He inclined his head towards the unopened package still sitting on the table. “You gonna open that?”

“Do you think it’s wise to open it here?” Pax whispered. “I mean, it’s not like this place is filled with people dying to know what it is, but what if whatever’s inside blows my cover?”

“Nightingale’s too careful for that. If she had something incriminating, she’d give it to you herself in private.” Pax nodded slowly, acknowledging his logic. He was right, of course. Leliana didn’t seem like a careless person. If she was, she wouldn’t be their Spymaster.

She popped another pastry in her mouth and grabbed the package, placing it on her lap. She peeled back the corners, taking great care not to jostle the contents as she unfolded the cloth. The first thing she pulled out was a small leather, drawstring sack, which was the culprit behind the jingling. Pax placed the sack on the table, then pulled out a hairbrush, small strips of leather and ribbon that were probably hair ties, something that looked like a toothbrush, a change of clothes, and a stack of large leather-bound books. She burst out laughing to see that Leliana had, essentially, sent her a care package.

Pax placed the books, clothes, and brushes on the chair beside her and opened the sack. She tilted it and poured the contents onto the table. A myriad of gold loops fell out, all different sizes. Pax furrowed her brow as she examined the rings. She picked one up and studied it, rolling it between her fingers. She’d seen the currency used here, which were copper, silver, and gold coins, so these loops weren’t money. Why would Leliana give these to her? And then she noticed the clasp.

“They’re earrings!” she gasped. She found the two largest ones, and after a moment of struggling with the unfamiliar clasps, she put them through both earlobes. She then meticulously arranged the rest of the loops by size, from largest to smallest, and began placing them up the shell of her left ear. When she was finished with her ears, there was still one ring left. This one was slightly different from the rest. It was more ornate, with tiny baubles dangling from the main loop, and the clasp went straight across. It’s a septum ring! Pax was absolutely giddy. She turned away from Varric for a moment, because she really didn’t want him to see the faces she made as she inserted the ring. She turned around and smiled wide, feeling more like herself than she had in ages.

“I’m not usually a fan of that much jewelry, but it looks good on you,” he said as he gave her a good once-over.

“And I’m not usually a fan of that much chest hair, but it looks good on you,” she teased. Varric put a hand to his chest, looking stricken, and she giggled.

“I’ll have you know ladies happen to love my chest hair, thank you very much,” Varric shot back, unbuttoning another clasp to emphasize his point. Pax grinned and shook her head, reaching for the hairbrush. She dragged it through her ends first, easing some of the knots from her hair. The mixture between her mother’s straight black hair and her father’s curly blonde had resulted in her mop of thick, black locks that only curled at the ends. As she brushed her hair, stopping only to pop a piece of fruit or another pastry into her mouth, she and Varric fell into a comfortable silence. For the first time since she woke up in Thedas, Pax felt at ease.

Now and again, she’d run her fingers over the shell of her ears, feeling the long familiar press of metal against her skin. It was nice to be able to wear her jewelry. She was honestly surprised none of the holes had closed. How long had it been since she’d been able to wear them? Her work had a strict dress code, and before that, she’d taken most of them out so Owen’s chubby little baby hands wouldn’t yank on them. Even her less eccentric jewelry, like her diamond studs, had to be kept in a lock box for a time. After Michael had stolen them off her ears while she slept and pawned them…

The door to the tavern swung open, pulling Pax from her thoughts, and Solas strode inside. Beside him was a woman, an elf with long strawberry blonde hair. Varric waved the two elves over, and Pax watched as the two barefooted elves glided towards their table. The elf woman was absolutely gorgeous. Her large, bright eyes were mostly blue, but near the pupil was a ring of sea green. Her pale skin was flawless, save for a smattering of freckles on her nose, and the intricate, white tattoo on her forehead and chin. The woman was giggling at something Solas had said, which was an oddity on its own, and the sound of her laughter was rich and inviting. Pax was entranced. Varric must have noticed her staring, because he elbowed her sharply in her ribs. She closed her mouth, sheepish she’d been caught ogling the other woman as the two sat down across from her and Varric.

“Allow me to introduce Strawberry, the proclaimed Herald of Andraste,” Varric said with a smirk. The woman sighed and rolled her eyes, but kept her smile. “Creators, Varric. How many times have I told you not to call me that? I’m not the herald of anything.” Solas turned to her and said sternly, “Posturing is necessary. Whether or not you believe Andraste exists doesn’t negate the fact that these people believe she sent you in their hour of need.”

”I understand your point, Solas. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.” The woman turned her attention to Pax, who was busy trying to bore a hole in the floor with her eyes. “And who’s your friend Varric?” The elf cocked her head, then her eyes lit up. “Oh! It’s you! You’re the one who…” the woman caught herself before her voice got too loud. She leaned forward and whispered, “You’re the one who fell out of the rift in the mountains.” Pax nodded dumbly. The elf laughed.

”Well, we both have something in common now. We’ve both fallen out of the Fade, and we’ve both seen the stabbing end of Cassandra’s sword. I’m Adahlena Lavellan, but you can call me Lena for short.” Lena held out her slender hand across the table. Pax took it, and was surprised by the firmness of the elf’s grip. “It’s…ah…nice to meet you, Lena,” she sputtered, “I’m Pax.” The elf smiled at her as she released her hand, then cast her gaze to Varric.

“I’m surprised by your silence Varric. I would have expected you to jump in with a ridiculous nickname for our friend here,” Lena said, her lips curled into a smirk. Varric threw up his hands.

“Sometimes the names take a while. And this one,” he added, jutting his thumb towards Pax, “has given me a lot of trouble. Not everyone’s as easy to nickname as you, Strawberry.”

“Why am I so difficult?” Pax asked, feeling somewhat slighted.

“Well, I can’t name you anything that might blow your cover. And I already have a Rivaini, and a Broody, which would both be perfect for you.”

“I’m not broody!”

“Really? Because until you put those rings in your face, you hadn’t truly smiled since you’ve been here.”

“I’d like to see you put in my position. Then you can tell me how easy it is to be cheerful.”

“I know it’s rough, but for now, you’re stuck here. Might as well make the best of it.”

Pax closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat, letting out an exhausted sigh as she did. She wanted to argue with him, but damn it all if Varric wasn’t right… _again_. Until they closed the Breach, no one would be able to help her. She’d have to help herself, and part of that meant she had make the best of her situation.

Lena cleared her throat, and Pax opened her eyes to find the elf staring at her intently. The smile was gone from her face, replaced with a serious expression.

“So it’s true then? That you’re from another world?” she asked, leaning in close.

“Yes. I’m from a place called Earth. It’s very similar to Thedas, actually, but we don’t have magic. Or elves. Or dwarves. Or dragons…” Pax said, ticking off items on her fingers. Lena smiled slightly, but her demeanor stayed serious. “Tell me,” Lena started, bringing her gloved left hand into view, pulling at each finger, “You didn’t happen to get one of these in the Fade as well, did you?” Lena removed the glove, revealing a jagged green line in the middle of her palm. It sparked, sputtered, and swirled.

“Is that…do you have a rift in your hand?” Pax asked, astonished.

“We call it the Mark,” Solas interjected. “Whatever caused the Breach also placed the mark upon Adehlena’s hand. Using it, she’s able to close Fade rifts, and she stabilized the Breach. We theorized that, with enough power, she could close the Breach entirely. And that means seeking the help of the Rebel Mages.” Solas placed extra emphasis on his last sentence, looking at the Herald expectantly. Lena didn’t meet his gaze, staring instead at her hand as she replaced the glove.

“Solas, you know as well as I that we can’t even approach the mages until the area is stabilized. We can’t get near Redcliffe with the war ravaging the countryside. And,” Lena turned away from Solas to point at Varric, “That’s actually what I came to tell you. Cassandra wants you, Solas, and myself to leave with her for the Hinterlands at dawn, so have your bag packed and ready to go, because she’ll kill us if we aren’t up and ready by then.”

“Wait, what?” Pax was incredulous. She had only just gotten comfortable around Varric, and even around Solas, and they were all leaving?

“It’ll only be for a few weeks. We have to convince a horsemaster to aid us, speak with a Revered Mother, and try to put an end to the mage-templar war there. Nothing too complicated,” Varric said, giving Pax a pat on her shoulder.

“So, what am I supposed to do while you’re gone? I don’t have any money, or anything.”

Varric rubbed his chin for a moment, thinking hard on her question. Then he let out a loud whistle and waved at Flissa. The buxom woman left her station and sauntered over to their table. She stood in front of Varric, hands on her hips, and a smile on her face.

“What’ll it be, Varric? If you want ale this early, you’ll have to drag the cask from the cellar yourself.” she chided with a grin.

“I got a girl from Rivain here who needs some work. She’s got experience. Need any more helping hands?”

Flissa looked Pax up and down. “With the refugees and pilgrims pouring in, we could always use a hand. You start tomorrow. Be here by this time, and we’ll get you started.” With that, Flissa turned on her heel and headed back to her bar.

“See? Now you have something to do, and a way to make money. Simple as that.” Pax didn’t get the chance to respond, as Varric turned away and started chatting with Solas and Lena about their upcoming excursion. Being largely excluded from the conversation, Pax took the opportunity to rifle through the things Leliana had given her. She grabbed one of the multiple books from the pile and examined the cover, running her fingertips gently over the spine, and breathing deep, reveling in the smell of worn leather and parchment. One thing she could always count on was her love of literature, and books gave her comfort when there was none to be found in the outside world. She could see a few faded, golden lines on the cover, but couldn’t make out the letters. Years of handling had probably rubbed away most of the defining marks.

She sat the book on the table and opened the book to the title page. Her brow furrowed. She flipped a few more pages, and then a few more, growing increasingly anxious as she furiously turned page after page. She didn’t realize the conversation around her had stopped, and all three of her companions were staring at her.

“Is something wrong?” Lena asked, gently. Pax looked up to see three sets of eyes watching her with curious expressions. 

“I….I can’t read this.” Pax was deflated. Books were the one thing that could give her a sense of normalcy, and she couldn’t read their language. She’d been optimistic, thinking that if their spoken language was so similar, the written language must be the same as well, but when she looked at the page, the characters were foreign. They were jagged, made a mixture straight lines in various angles, in various lengths. They reminded her of Nordic runes.

“You can’t read Common?” Solas asked, leaning forward to check the book in Pax’s hands. She shook her head.

“I’d offer to teach you, but we’re leaving tomorrow. Maybe Ruffles could teach her?” Varric looked at Lena, who nodded. “I have a meeting in a few minutes. I’ll ask her then,” Lena said as she glanced at Pax.

“Considering our journey may prove to be a long one, maybe its best if we try and answer any questions you have now,” Solas added.

Pax wracked her brain for a moment, trying to gather up anything that might help her survive while they were gone.

“Okay…first, where can I bathe? Oh, and what exactly is this thing?” Pax produced a long cloth from the pile of clothes Leliana had given her. It just like the one she’d been given after her interrogation. “Is it a belt or something?”

Solas flushed scarlet from his cheeks to the tips of his ears and looked away. Varric snorted into his mug, and Lena howled with laughter. Pax looked at each of them, her confusion obvious on her face.

“Oh, Creators,” Lena managed to say as she wiped tears from her eyes, “There’s a bath house set up at the edge of the village. I’ll show it to you before I go to the war room. If you want more privacy, you can use the streams, but I’d recommend taking someone with you to keep watch for bears. And that,” she said, barely containing her laughter, “that’s called a breast band.”

Pax blushed and hurriedly stowed the breast band away with the rest of her clothing. She apparently had a lot to learn before the day was out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adahlena = Daughter of the Forest.
> 
> Thank you to [Project Elvhen](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4401050/chapters/9994775) for their work on the Elvhen language, and for compiling a great list of names, which I used for the Herald.
> 
> We've finally gotten through the "introduction" chapters. Now the action starts, and I'm giddy. Thank you to everyone who's stuck with me so far. I'm working on the next chapter already, and updates should start coming much faster now that I'm no longer backlogged.
> 
> Also, should I create a Tumblr? Seems like most authors here have one. I'm still on the fence. Is anyone out there that interested in talking to me about this fanfic, or anything else in general?
> 
> P.S. I'm looking for an artist or two whom I can commission works from for this fic. Any suggestions?
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. The Ceremony of Innocence is Drowned;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pax finds her footing.

Cullen shielded his eyes from the early morning light as he emerged from behind the thick Chantry doors. Leliana had insisted they meet with the Herald before her departure to the Hinterlands, which meant he’d been up before the sun had even begun to color the sky. He’d woken with a headache, and after a few hours of debating the best course of action with the somewhat naive and overly-optimistic Herald, it had only gotten worse.

He squinted against the harshness of the risen sun against the snow and cast his gaze towards the gate, trying to make out the figures standing there. He saw the stiff profile of Cassandra, the relaxed stature of Lena, and the lithe figure of Solas. Wasn’t Varric supposed to be with them?

He walked towards the requisitions table and peeked down over the ledge to see the grumbling dwarf hurriedly packing his bag, and to his surprise, a woman was with him. There was also a second tent. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to recall the day before. Surely the tent wasn’t there the previous morning? He’d have remembered seeing it.

The woman had her back to him, so all Cullen could see was her short frame and long, wavy black hair. It certainly wasn’t Isabella. This woman wasn’t tall enough, and she was wearing too many clothes. And Hawke had flaming red hair. It definitely wasn’t Daisy, or any of Varric’s other contacts from Kirkwall, or at least none that he’d ever met before. It also wasn’t like Varric to seek female attention; if the stories were to be believed, he was too wrapped up in Bianca to even look at another woman with interest. So who was she? Or, a better question, why did he care who she was at all?

Cullen was so wrapped up in thought that he almost didn’t notice that the pair had begun walking towards the gate. He watched the woman’s body language as she walked beside Varric. She seemed nervous, hugging her own body tightly and casting wary glances from side to side. When they reached the gate, Cullen watched as she shook hands with the dwarf then stayed rooted to the spot as the party filed out of the gate, her arms still wrapped tightly around herself.

“I see you’ve noticed the newest member of the Inquisition.”

The lilting voice at his side caused Cullen to start, and he looked over to see Leliana standing beside him. After months of working with her, one would think he’d get used to her materializing out of nowhere, but she always managed to give him a fright. Her cold and calculating countenance didn’t help, either.

“Newest member?” he asked, turning his gaze away from Leliana to stare at the strange woman again. She’d finally turned around and started back up the hill. He could make out some of her features now - her dark skin and dark eyes, and a hint of gold flashing in the morning light. 

“She joined us a few days ago, somewhat unexpectedly,” Leliana stated, although there was a slight amusement in her voice.

“Who is she?” Cullen asked, watching as the woman made her way back to the new tent and disappeared inside. With the woman out of sight, he turned his attention back to the Spymaster, who motioned for him to follow her over to her own tent. Leliana crossed her arms behind her back and turned to face him once they were in the semi-privacy of her makeshift operations room.

“Her name is Pax, and she fell out of a rift on the mountain pass as the Herald made her way to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.”

“What do you mean, ‘fell out of a rift’? Is she a demon? Or is she like the Herald?” Cullen’s hand went instinctively to the pommel of his sword.

“Don’t be so hasty, Commander. She is quite human, and has no mark or magical qualities to speak of. Her story is her own to tell, but like the Herald, I feel the Maker has sent her here for some purpose. She has a part to play in this. Whether for good or ill, I cannot tell.”

Cullen watched Leliana’s icy blue eyes cloud over as she spoke, her gaze growing distant, and then in an instant she was back to full attention.

“Why wasn’t I informed of this earlier?” Cullen growled. It was just like Leliana to keep such vital information from him.

“I didn’t deem it necessary until I was sure she was trustworthy. If she had been dangerous, I would have struck her down myself. As it stands, she is nothing more than a terrified young woman in a strange place. She poses no threat to you, or anyone else for that matter.”

Cullen sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to massage away the knot of tension that was slowly forming at the base of his skull. Whoever this new woman was, he wasn’t going to be as quick to trust her as Leliana seemed to be. He’d have to keep an eye on her.

“Why don’t you go to the tavern this evening and get a hot meal for once? You need to relax a little,” Leliana said, catching Cullen’s gaze once more. He couldn’t help but notice a the twinkle in her eyes.

“I don’t go to the tavern. That’s where the troops go to unwind. I don’t want to ruin their evening.”

“Consider it an order. Have a drink. I’m sure it would do the new recruits some good to see that you’re human.”

“I’ll consider it. I should return to my duties.”

“As you were, Commander.” Cullen turned on his heel to exit the tent, and he couldn’t deny the feeling that Leliana was smiling at his retreating form.

***

Pax had woken early that morning to see Varric before he left with the Herald and her party. She’d been surprised at her ability to rise without an alarm clock, but seeing as she’d slept poorly to begin with, crawling out of her bedroll at the crack of dawn wasn’t as difficult as she’d imagined. As she exited her tent, she had been greeted by the sight of a very disheveled Varric haphazardly tossing items into his pack. She offered to help him, but was waved off, so she watched him slump around their little campsite until he was finally ready to depart.

“Flissa will take good care of you, and she pays well. Just keep yourself out of trouble while we’re gone and you’ll be fine. We’ll be back before you know it,” he’d said as they walked down towards Haven’s gate. Cassandra, Lena, and Solas were already there, packs slung over their shoulders. Pax actively avoided Cassandra’s glower.

Lena waved as Pax and Varric strolled up to the gates, a wide grin on her face. Pax sulked. It was far too early for someone to be that happy. It wasn’t natural.

Varric turned to Pax before he joined his group and held out his hand. Pax took it and gave the dwarf a soft smile. “See you in a few weeks?” she asked. Varric smiled back. “Lets hope. Remember what I said. Keep your nose clean, and you’ll be fine.” With that, Varric turned and joined the others. In seconds, they were through the gates and out of sight.

Pax wrapped her arms around herself as she walked back to her tent. The sun was now completely above the horizon, but she decided to try and catch a few more hours of sleep before she had to meet Flissa. As she reached for the canvas, she noticed a flash of red and the glint of metal from the ledge above, but when she looked up, it was gone.

She crawled back into her tent and tried to lay down, but the village was beginning to wake up around her. The sounds of footsteps, creaking wagons, and bleating animals grew louder as the sun inched higher in the sky and seeped through the canvas. It was too bright and too loud to relax, so she grabbed her bucket, soap, and some of the other items Leliana had given her the day before and went off to find the showers.

Without Varric and Solas to guide her, she was left to stumble around Haven on her own, much to the chagrin of a few villagers, whom she’d accidentally interrupted during their morning meal as she looked for the bathhouse. Lena had shown her the day before, but damn it all if each building in the village didn’t look exactly the same, well, besides the Chantry anyway.

Bathing itself was a hurried affair. The water was freezing, and there was no such thing as privacy in the communal bathhouse. Soldiers and villagers kept filing in and out as she tried to scrub the grime from her skin and hair. No one cared about modesty here, and many of those coming in to bathe stripped naked instantly and began dousing themselves in the frigid water, talking and laughing amongst themselves.

When she felt as clean as she could get, Pax twisted as much of the water out of her hair as she could and wove a quick braid into her damp locks. She dressed quickly, then returned to her tent to stow away her belongings. Even though her experience in the bathhouse had been awkward, she was glad to feel clean and refreshed. It was the first time she’d really felt human since she’d woken in this new world.

She sat down on her bedroll and reached for one of the books Leliana had given her. She opened the cover and turned to the first page. She ran her finger over the unfamiliar symbols, willing her brain to make sense of them, but it was no use. Without any references or alphabet to go on, there was no hope of reading the tomes. She shut the book with a snap.

Pax peeked out the canvas flaps and located the sun. She wasn’t sure how to tell time here, but she decided to employ a trick her father taught her when she was young. It was how he used to tell time on the tractor, since his family was too poor and pragmatic to purchase wristwatches. She held up her hand with her palm facing towards her, and clamped her fingers together. She placed her fingers between the sun and the horizon, and counted the number in between. Only three fingers fell between the gap, so presumably, only three hours had passed since the sun breached the treeline. If dawn was somewhere around 6 a.m., then it would be around 9 a.m., not even close to lunchtime. Maybe Flissa would appreciate it if she showed up early? Or it would piss her off. Either way, she needed to stay busy, and waiting around in her tent and guessing at the passage of time wasn’t the most palatable idea. Making up her mind, Pax exited the tent and made her way towards the tavern.

***

Flissa was more than pleased that Pax had shown up early.

“I’m glad you came when you did. Now I’ll have time to go through everything with you before the lunch rush gets here. First, we need to do something about your clothes.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Pax asked, glancing down at her attire and plucking at the hem of her tunic.

“They’re frumpy. If you want to earn money, you have to show a little more skin. Come with me. I think we can salvage this,” Flissa said, motioning for Pax to follow.

Flissa lead Pax to a storage room, which also seemed to serve as the bar keep’s bedroom. A small cot was placed in one corner, with a dresser, a desk, and a mirror neatly arranged amidst crates of dry goods. Flissa dug in the drawers and pulled out a corset and a ruffled skirt.

“First, put this on,” Flissa said, tossing the skirt to Pax. It was white with a hint of gold threading, and looked like it was slit up the side. Looking up at Flissa, Pax noticed her arms were crossed, and she eyed Pax with impatience. Since modesty and privacy didn’t seem to be a thing in Thedas, or at least not during a war, Pax shimmied out of her leggings and stepped into the skirt. It fit surprisingly well. The white and gold ruffles complimented her dark skin, and the skirt hitched up slightly on the right side. It showed quite a bit of leg, but it wasn’t scandalous.

“Good,” Flissa said, nodding with approval, “Now we need to cinch your waist. It’ll lift your bosoms, and give you a nice hourglass figure.” She stepped forward with a dark brown underbust corset and wrapped it around Pax’s waist, overtop of the green tunic. Then she began to lace it. When she was done, Pax found it a little more difficult to breathe, but the sensation wasn’t completely unpleasant.

“And for the final touches…” Flissa opened the first few clasps of Pax’s tunic and pulled it open so it hung off her shoulders and showed a little cleavage, then pulled out a stick of kohl and smudged it around Pax’s eyes. She stood back to admire her handiwork, then nodded.

“We’ll have to do something about those ratty boots, but it can’t be helped now.” Flissa walked over to her desk and scrawled something on a piece of parchment, then handed it to Pax.

“Tomorrow morning, take this list to Seggrit. He’s the merchant down by the gates. He’ll be able to get you what you need. He may have to ship in some of these, so keep what I’ve given you for now, but it shouldn’t cost more than your first day’s wages.” Pax carefully folded the parchment, and noticing that she lacked pockets stashed the paper inside of her bra. Flissa smiled, then motioned to the mirror.

Pax stepped forward and glanced in the reflective glass, and had to stifle a gasp. She felt...sexy. It wasn’t a huge transformation. She hadn’t been caked with makeup like they would have done back home, but the cinched waist, the ruffled skirt, and the smudged kohl gave her a mysterious appeal. She wasn’t skinny by any means, and had no muscle to speak of. Her body was soft, and her pregnancy with Owen had left her with plenty of stretch marks and rounded curves. There were times when she was ashamed of her body. She hated seeing herself naked, of seeing the loose skin, the dimpled thighs and ass, the overly large breasts that had lost their perkiness, and the purplish lines that snaked their way around her hips and stomach. But here, looking in this mirror, she was reminded of her power as a woman.

She studied her own face, which reminded her so much of her mother’s. Her broad and slightly aquiline nose, high cheekbones, full lips, and strong dark brows. Her dark brown eyes were accented and more sultry with the smudged kohl. As much as she wished her black hair could have been pin straight like her mothers and those of her people, her father’s genetics had to come through somewhere.

Pax ran her fingers over the golden rings dangling from the shell of her left ear. All she needed was some ceremonial warpaint, red or blue beneath the eyes and the bridge of her nose, and some white on her forehead and chin, and she’d look just like her mother at one of the dream ceremonies or the annual Pow Wow.

“The gold rings suit you. The boys in the army have romantic fantasies about travelling the world and seeing exotic places, but most of them won’t ever make it past the walls of Haven. You’ll give them a taste of the adventure they yearn for,” Flissa said with a wistful smile.

As they walked back out to the tavern, Flissa gave Pax a run down of her duties.

“The job isn’t difficult. We’ve only ever got two dishes on the menu at a time. The lunch and dinner menu are the same. Don’t let any of them swindle you into giving them breakfast. Our eggs and fresh fruit are being rationed, so if they miss it, they miss it. Be friendly and respectful, but don’t let any of them get handsy. If any of the soldiers get inappropriate, let me know and I’ll inform the Commander. The choices for today are roasted nug or fish. Both come with potatoes, greens, and bread. The drinks are pretty limited as well. We have red wine - which tastes like vinegar so I don’t recommend it unless you’re already drunk - Ferelden Ale, and Dwarven Ale. Just remember to wipe down the tables after patrons leave, and whatever money is left there after they’ve paid their tab is yours to keep.” Flissa handed Pax a pouch to hang at her waist for collecting coin, then nodded to a table of soldiers who had just sat down at a nearby table. Flissa gave Pax a smack on the rear, and turned her loose.

***

The sky outside had long been dark when the last of the dinner rush filed out of the tavern. There were still a few patrons scattered about, talking to each other or drowning themselves in their tankards, but it had grown much quieter. The tavern would still be open well into the night, but Pax’s shift was almost up, or at least, she assumed so.

She flitted about, wiping down tables and collecting tips. Her feet ached, but she was in good spirits. Her first day had gone rather well, considering she was learning as she went. She’d only messed up one order, and the soldier whose order she’d mixed up had still left her a fat tip. The hardest part was trying to remember what each item cost, how currency was divided, and trying to do the math in her head since she couldn’t read or write. But in the end, Flissa was right. A little skin and a nice smile would get her far in this business.

As Pax was wiping down the last of the empty tables, the tavern doors swung open and a man in a red cloak strode through. She watched as the man stood by the doors and took stock of his surroundings. His eyes scanned the tavern, pausing over the faces of the few patrons who were left, before he took a seat at the bar. Flissa, who was usually behind the bar, was over chatting with a few people whom Pax assumed to be regulars. Not wanting the man to wait, she walked behind the bar and approached him.

She walked up cautiously. Whoever he was, he cast an imposing persona. He was in full armor, and his chest plate and greaves glinted in the tavern’s candlelit atmosphere. The neckline of his brilliant red cloak was covered in fur - or was it feathers? - which shielded much of his face. As she got closer, she could see a shock of blonde hair that had been slicked back, and at one point in the day neatly groomed, but was now beginning to unravel and curl. When she was finally in front of him, she leaned forward on the bar to get his attention.

“Hello there. What can I get for you this evening?” Pax plastered on her smile, but the man hadn’t noticed her presence, as he was still casting wary glances around the tavern.

“Hello? Would you like anything to drink?” She asked again. This time, the man made eye contact, and she was taken aback. His eyes were amber, like honeyed whiskey, but the whites were tinged with red. He was either severely tired, or he’d been crying. The dark circles beneath them suggested the former.

Realizing he’d been caught off guard, the man’s hand went to the back of his neck. “Oh, sorry. I was...distracted.” The man said, casting his gaze away sheepishly.

“It’s no problem. You look like you’ve had a rough day. We’re allowed to be distracted once in awhile. You’re human, after all.” Pax gave him another smile. “So, what can I get for you? We’ve got nug or fish if you’d like a hot meal. As for drinks, we’ve got either Ferelden or Dwarven ale, and some red wine. I’ve heard it tastes like straight vinegar though,” she said, with a wink.

The man gave her a small smile, and she noticed a scar bisecting his upper lip. His jaw was covered in stubble, and the longer she looked at him, the more handsome he became.

“I’ll have a Ferelden ale and the nug, please.” Pax blinked, and quickly realized she’d been openly staring at the man in front of her. Heat rose in her cheeks, and it was her turn to feel sheepish.

“Ah..right. Yes. Coming right up.” She scurried away to put in his order with the cooks, then poured him a tankard of ale. As she brought the ale back to him, she realized she’d seen a cloak just like his the night before.

“Are there others with cloaks like yours?” she asked as she carefully set the tankard down on the bar in front of him, trying to avoid sloshing foam over the rim.

“Hm? No. Not that I’m aware,” he said, grasping the handle and raising the ale to his lips.

“Ah, I see you’ve met our illustrious Commander,” Flissa’s voice wafted through the air as she came back behind the bar to stand next to Pax. “It’s not often we get the privilege of such company. Tell me, Commander. How are the new recruits fairing? Hopefully their prowess with a sword is much better than their manners.”

The Commander sighed over his tankard. “Most of them are farmers who’ve never held anything other than a pitchfork, but we’ll have to make due.”

Flissa gave him a sultry smile. “Well if anyone can whip these young lads into shape, it would be you.”

The Commander gaped for a moment at the bar keep’s obvious flirtation, and his hand went to the back of his neck once again. “I..uh….”

A bell jingled from the back room. “Oh, your food is ready,” Pax said, as she scurried to the kitchen. She grabbed the steaming plate of roasted nug and vegetables from the grubby cook, and wondered just how sanitary their meal prep practices truly were. She handed the plate to the Commander, who nodded in thanks.

“If you ladies will excuse me, I’d prefer to take my meal back to my quarters.” The Commander tossed a few coins onto the bar and went to stand. As he grabbed his plate and his ale, the tavern doors swung open, and an one of Leliana’s messengers stepped through.

The Commander stood at attention as the messenger entered and walked toward the bar. “Report,” he ordered at the elven woman.

“I’m sorry sir, but this message is for the young lady.” The messenger walked up to Pax. “Ambassador Montiliyet would like to see you in her office, Miss.”

She looked at Flissa, who nodded. “You’re shift is over for the evening. You’ve done well tonight, Pax. I’ll see you tomorrow, and don’t forget to give that list to Seggrit.”

Pax smiled back and gave a slight wave to the Commander before following the messenger out of the tavern. She hadn’t noticed the way he’d frozen at the mention of her name, or how he’d stared after her as she walked away.

***

The Ambassador’s office was inside the Chantry, and it seemed a little cold and damp for a place where diplomatic negotiations were held. Pax couldn’t tell if it was meant to look intimidating, or if the newly formed Inquisition lacked the means for finery.

Josephine seemed to be making the best of her situation, however, and her gold and blue outfit gave off enough warmth to fill the room. She was seated behind a large desk and motioned for Pax to sit down in the chair opposite her. There were piles of books and parchment, as well as a few quills and pots of ink on the desk between them.

“I’ve been informed that you cannot read Common,” Josephine’s rich accent filled the room as she regarded Pax. “Normally, this would be handled by one of our scholars, but given your….unique situation...Leliana decided this would be better handled by myself. So, this will be part history lesson as well as teaching you to read and write in our language. If you’re ready…” The ambassador motioned to the pile of parchment and the quill.

Pax took the quill in hand and examined it. Learning how to write with one of these might be more of a challenge than anything else. She dipped it in the open bottle of ink, then looked to Josephine, who smiled.

“We’ll start with the rudimentary symbols. I’ll write them out first, then you copy them. This first one…”

Pax listened as Josephine began explaining the Common alphabet, and did her best to copy the symbols without making giant ink smudges on her parchment. At least this was something she could find comfort in. Education was something she had always enjoyed. Maybe she could find a place in this world after all. At least for the time being. And, she reminded herself, once she could read and write, she could begin researching how to get herself home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> Hey everyone! I'm so happy to be back. I'm sorry I ran away for a while. Between trying to finish up my Master's degree, being quagmired in PhD applications, and still writing my thesis, I've been busy. But I need to keep writing this, both for my mental health and enjoyment. I hope you enjoy the latest chapter, and the next one is in the works. I'm hoping to keep this updated regularly, and I actually have a plot line now instead of pulling ideas out of my ass.
> 
> Cheers!


	8. The Best Lack All Conviction,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Pax gains a hobby and loses her footing. Literally.

The next few weeks passed by without incident. It helped that Pax had developed something of a routine between the tavern and Josephine’s lessons - and she’d also found a few hobbies.

The morning after her first day of work she’d gone to find Seggrit, the merchant down by the gates. She handed over Flissa’s list and watched the callous man scowl over whatever items were written on it. After he cursed and muttered over his need to order a few items from “the bloody Orlesians” he finally settled on three silvers and fifty coppers for the lot. Some of the things on Flissa’s list he had in stock, such as a stick of kohl, two pairs of boots, and a fur-lined cloak, but the skirts, corsets, and perfume needed to be shipped in from the neighboring country.

Checking her coin purse after the purchase, Pax realized she still had a handfull of coppers left. She decided to browse the rest of Seggrit’s wares. She eyed the assortment of chipped weapons and armour, letting her fingers run over the cold steel of gauntlets and blades, mostly out of curiosity. She had no combat experience to speak of, and it didn’t seem likely she’d ever be called on to fight. Maybe a little dagger at her hip for self-defense would be prudent? Everyone else in Haven seemed to have some sort of weapon at their side. She glanced at the merchant’s eclectic array of weapons again. The daggers on display were slightly rusted and shoddy-looking, and there wasn’t a way to get a tetanus shot in Thedas if she accidentally stabbed herself. She’d have to ask Varric for his opinion when he came back...if he came back.

As she looked over his crates of smaller, miscellaneous items, she came upon a few books of blank parchment. With a giddy squeal, she lifted them from the crate and hugged them to her chest. They were plain, unornamented journals, but they were perfect for her. She purchased two of them, along with her own quill and a pot of ink. She cradled her new books all the way back to her tent, doting over them and reveling in the smell of fresh paper that was just aching to be written on. “Soon, my loves. Soon,” she whispered to the books as she nestled them atop her bedroll.

After a few days of working, Pax showed up at the tavern only to have Flissa shoo her out. Apparently, it was her day off. Pax hadn’t realized she’d get days off when she started, and even went so far as mentally resigning herself to the fact she’d probably be put to work every single day, especially since this world seemed wrapped up in a constant state of anxiety and chaos. She wanted to help however she could, because even though she didn’t belong here she knew the ravages of war, especially on innocent civilians. Even though the only assistance she could offer these people was a cold ale, a warm plate, and a bright smile, she took her job seriously. Sometimes a little friendliness was all it took to make a person feel human again. And now, she had an entire day to herself. Her aching feet would probably thank her for the respite, but how could she pass the time?

She decided to search around the village for a quiet place to write. Unfortunately, inside the walls was already full to bursting with people and no matter where she turned, she couldn’t find a moment of privacy. Maybe outside of the village proper would be better?

She returned to her tent to don a simpler outfit and her new cloak. As she dressed she realized in all the time she’d been here, she had yet to venture outside of the main gate. There were guards on watch, constantly hovering or patrolling near the great wooden doors, but it seemed like the villagers could travel freely. Pax changed put on one of the outfits Leliana had given her. She wrapped her new cloak around her shoulders and fastened it under her neck. The fur on the inside was a tad scratchy, which is probably why Seggrit sold it for so cheap, but the color was a beautiful shade of sapphire, and on top of that it was _warm_. There was no longer a need for her to jog everywhere she went just to keep from freezing, and for that she was grateful.

After changing, she followed the main road towards the gate. She descended the steps with caution, her eyes raking over the stone-carved image of a sun rising above the mountains that decorated the archway. She hoped that she didn’t need some type of special password to get outside, or to get back in, but as she walked up, the soldiers merely nodded to her and opened the gates and allowed her to stroll right through.

_Well, that was easy._

Pax stepped out from under the shadow of the defensive wall and was assaulted by the ringing of steel against steel, as well as the smell of ashes and hot metal. To her right, she noticed rows of tents and squadrons of soldiers sparring with one another. Training dummies (more like burlap sacks stuffed with straw and scribbled on with paint) were staked down in rows, some for archers and some for swordsman.

She noticed a small stone retaining wall to her right that was the perfect height to sit upon. She perched herself on the ledge and watched the soldiers train for a few moments, and the longer she stared, the more she recognized some of their faces. Many of them she knew because they patronized the tavern, and others she had seen running around inside of Haven. There was Erich, the lithe young boy with a perpetually dirty face who always blushed when she took his order. Whoever he was sparring with greatly outmatched him, and every few seconds, Erich wound up on the ground. That would explain why he was always dirty.

She also noticed Carissa, the broad, fair-skinned brunette who was one of the handful of female fighters in the Inquisition’s army. Pax watched as Carissa practiced bashing her opponent with her shield, sending the other soldier stumbling backwards time and time again. She could tell the woman wasn’t giving it her full might, and Pax made a mental note never to cross her.

Pax remained still for a few more moments, watching the soldiers run through their stances and picking out more familiar faces, until her concentration was broken by a stream of people exiting one of the large tents surrounding the training field. As the tent flap was pulled back a dwarven woman with blonde hair tied in a french braid emerged from the darkened interior, followed by a few soldiers in newer, cleaner armour, whom Pax assumed were officers of some sort. The last to exit, to Pax’s surprise, was the Commander. He stepped out into the sunshine wearing his usual armour and bright red cloak, as well as a scowl. Whatever had gone on in that meeting, it didn’t look like the news had been good.

She watched the Commander stalk towards Erich, who had once again been tossed on his arse. He hauled him to his feet by the shoulder straps of his breastplate. He leaned in close and said something to the young soldier, then gave him a shove back towards his sparring partner. Pax noticed Erich seemed to stand a little straighter as he squared off once again. The Commander’s paternal streak didn’t last long, however, because the next second he was barking orders at a different recruit who had lost the grip on his sword, causing it to sail through the air and spear the ground almost 20 feet away. She could hear the harsh, guttural growl that came from deep in the Commander’s throat as his bumbling recruits continued to make mistakes. Even with the scowl and sour mood, something about the raw power and masculinity that radiated from his body as he stalked through their lines made Pax want to stay and gawk even more. She found herself wondering what hearing that growl in a more...intimate circumstance would be like. Heat bloomed in her chest and crept up to her cheeks. She cast her gaze away and swallowed hard. Maybe it would be best if she stopped watching.

Hopping down from the wall, Pax turned her attention to the diverging paths. The one that went right led past the training grounds and seemed to extend into the wooded area beyond. The left path curved around an empty stable and a building with billowing black smoke issuing from multiple chimneys. _Most likely the smithy_ , Pax presumed. Another path led forward towards a vast frozen lake and a solitary dock. She started forward towards the abandoned dock, her notebooks and quill clutched tightly to her chest.

It was a slight trek. She’d underestimated just how far away the dock truly was. The boards were sturdy enough, she decided once she finally reached it, and they looked fairly new. It was hard to tell completely since they were crusted with a fine sheet of snow. When she reached the end of the small pier, she turned round. From her vantage point, she could see Haven in almost all of it’s entirety, and it was breathtaking. The little village, nestled at the base of a giant range of mountains, was magnificent in the afternoon sun. The smooth polished stone of the Chantry gleamed, and the scattered, brown rustic buildings all around made it seem like something out of a fairy tale. _Well, this entire world is something out of a fairy tale,_ she reminded herself.

She turned her view back to the frozen lake. The brightness of the sky and the snow made it nearly impossible to distinguish the horizon. Instead, the lake and sky melded together in a haze of white. Pax pulled her cloak tightly around her body, then she sat down on the edge of the dock and let her legs dangle over the edge. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about dropping her notebook in the water.

With the quill in one hand and the journal in the other, she searched her mind for an opening sentence. Her intention was for this notebook to become a personal journal. She wanted to chronicle everything that had happened to her, so when she got home, she could share her stories with Owen. Maybe he’d forgive her for her absence if he knew…

She swallowed hard and blinked rapidly, willing the tears that had begun to prick her eyes to leave. There was no point in crying now. She had to get all of this down on paper. Once that was over, she could afford herself the time to weep.

Straightening up, she cleared her throat and opened the journal to its first blank page.

_My name is Pax Seiler. I’m a 24 year old woman from Earth, from the United States, from Ohio. This is going to sound crazy, and it probably is, because this shit is weird._

_On January 18th, 2016 (or 9:41 Dragon) I was involved in a car accident, and shortly after, I was sucked through a portal to another universe. I’m now in a place called Thedas, and I’ve been here for 11 days, if you count the four that I was unconscious..._

***

It had been just over four weeks since Lena and the others left for the Hinterlands. She hadn’t heard much about their ventures, besides a few comments from Josephine during their lessons. She knew that they were alive, at least, but she had no idea when they’d return. Even though she worked at the tavern and met with Josephine, it was still an extremely isolating existence, and she was lonely. That’s why, on her days off, she made it a habit to watch the troops train for a while before she skirted off to the dock to write. The Commander never seemed to notice her, and if he had, he didn’t seem to mind her audience.

So that’s where Pax found herself in the early morning hours, seated on the wall as usual, watching the soldiers spar with each other. Her notebook was open, and she was making adjustments to her sketch of a generic Inquisition soldier. She’d bought a piece of charcoal off of Seggrit the week before when the idea of sketching everything, as well as taking notes, came to mind. She wasn’t a great artist by any means, but she wasn’t terrible, and the sketches made her feel like her journal was valid.

Pax decided early on, after her first time writing at the docks, that one book would strictly be a personal diary/field journal. She documented everything, from the people she met to the different types of animals and plants she encountered. She wrote in English, because if she couldn’t read their language, they most certainly couldn’t read hers. She wanted her private thoughts kept private.

The second journal, however, contained more academic materials, and she used it to practice her Common. The lessons with Josephine were going surprisingly well. Every evening they met in her office to practice the language and go over Theodesian history, and when the lesson ended, Pax would retire to her tent to try and read over all of the tomes Leliana had gifted her. Each time she’d get a little farther, understand more words, and be able to make notes on her readings. Three of the four tomes Leliana had gifted her were all written by the same man - Brother Ferdinand Genitivi. He would have been considered something of an anthropologist in her home world. Pax avidly devoured both volumes of _In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar_ because they taught her about all of the different races, cultures, and civilizations outside of Haven. She didn’t know how much of this world she’d get to see, if she even made it back home alive. She doubted she’d ever see a Qunari, or meet the Aavarr, so she’d have to experience them through her studies. The third tome, _Tales of the Destruction of Thedas_ was necessary, because it taught enough about Andraste, the Chantry, the Blights, and Darkspawn to help her fit in. It was a good companion to Josephine’s history lessons.

When Pax was finished adjusting her sketch of the soldier - the eye on the helmet and breastplate hadn’t been quite right - she flipped back through her journal. Her first sketch was a sketch of Owen. Without her cellphone or any pictures, she’d done it all from memory. She’d tried to capture his bright eyes, his toothy grin, his mop of unruly brown hair, and his nose, which was so much like her own. She’d cried while she’d sketched it in the privacy of her tent, the first time she’d truly allowed herself to weep over this whole ordeal, and there were splotches where her tears had smudged the fresh charcoal. But it was Owen, or at least, his likeness.

She’d also sketched Leliana, Josephine, Varric, Solas, Flissa, and Cassandra. On the pages beside their sketches, she’d made little notes about their personalities, with plenty of room still to spare. She didn’t know them very well, yet, other than that Cassandra hated her guts and Varric treated her like a person. She had a page reserved for Lena as well, but since she’d only met the Herald once, her visage wasn’t as committed to memory as the others. As she flipped the pages, she realized she still hadn’t sketched the Commander. _That needs to be remedied right away_ , she thought with a smirk.

Pax propped the journal up on her knees. She looked at the training field and sure enough, the Commander was still stalking his troops, adjusting their stances and barking orders. She had to admit, whatever he was doing was working. Every time she came down to watch them train, there was a noticeable improvement both in their skill and their demeanor. Even Erich wasn’t getting tossed to the ground anymore.

With charcoal in hand, Pax began a rough outline of the Commander’s face. He had a strong jawline, and his chin almost looked cleft in the right light. She drew his sharp nose, his high cheekbones, his thick but well arched eyebrows, and his molten eyes. She drew his hair the same way he styled it - slicked back, but with a hint of curl lurking under the strict grooming. When she got to his lips, she paused. The perpetual scowl he wore did him no favors, and she didn’t want to sketch him that way. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the small smile he’d given her that night at the tavern. It wasn’t much. He hadn’t show teeth, but the right corner of his mouth had quirked up, and it had pulled the scar up with it. Yes, that was how she would draw him. It wasn’t a far deviance from his usual appearance, but it would soften him slightly and make him look less imposing in her journal.

When the full, quirked lips were in place, she drew a smattering of stubble along his jawline and around his mouth, and then down his neck. As she drew, she imagined her lips tracing the same pattern, following the line of his jaw, then up to his scar, then down the curve of his neck, maybe running her tongue over his adam’s apple then into the dip between his neck and collarbone. Maybe she’d even run her tongue lower…

She felt herself flush and immediately stopped her train of thought. She didn’t know why she was fantasizing like this. She knew nothing about him, and he certainly knew nothing about her. They were from two different worlds, after all. Besides, her goal should be getting home, and she shouldn’t let herself get distracted. But...maybe a quick romp in the hay before she left wouldn’t be such a bad thing. She smiled and shook her head at her own thoughts. He’d never go for that, and he was probably taken anyway, but there was no harm in imagining. Still smiling, she climbed down from her perch and dusted off her rear.

She spied the dock in the distance and started toward it, letting her feet carry her forward as she buried her face back into her journal. She’d walked the path enough times to know it by heart.

Gazing back down at the sketch of the Commander, she couldn’t help the nagging feeling that something was still off. Maybe it was his eyes? She had no way of coloring them, especially not his unique shade of honey brown. No, it wasn’t the color. They looked...sad, heavy with some unseen burden. They didn’t match the smile. Maybe if she just--

“Oof!”

Pax’s body made contact with cold metal. The impact sent her sprawling backward, landing hard in the snow.

Her forehead had taken the brunt of the impact, and she felt it throb with an oncoming bruise as she laid in the snow. She hoped the earth would open up and swallow her whole, and prayed that no one saw her embarrassing fall. As much as she would have liked to lay there until nightfall, the chill of the snow was creeping down her neck and numbing her ears. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked about to see what she’d run into.

To her horror, the imposing figure of the Commander was standing in front of her. He bent slightly and held out a gloved hand to her.

“Would you like some assistance?”

The words caught in her throat. Instead, she looked up into his golden eyes and nodded. She grasped his hand and he heaved her to her feet - a little too fast. The blood rushed from her head, and she had to steady herself on his arm to keep from falling back into the snow.

When the dizziness subsided, she looked up and met the Commander’s concerned gaze. She was taken aback by just how incredibly massive the man was. She was utterly dwarfed by him and she barely came up to his chest. His shoulders were broad and the armor only accented their width. Pax was close enough to his body, in fact, that she could smell the well-oiled leather that held his armor together, as well as a hint of something that reminded her of sandalwood.

Realizing that she was still holding his gloved hand, she released her grip and took a step backwards, looking down at her feet so he couldn’t see the blush blooming across her face.

“Are you all right?” The Commander asked. Pax noticed he held a broken sword in his left hand. He must have been cutting across the field to the smithy.

“Oh..Yes! Yes. I’m fine. Thank you Sir. Uh, Commander. Sir. Bumped my head on your armour I think, but I’ll be ok.” Pax stumbled over her words, and raised her hand to rub the aching spot above her eyebrow.

“You..uh...you just smudged a spot,” the Commander said, pointing to her head. Pax raised an eyebrow, then looked down at her fingers and palm, which were covered in dark charcoal. She’d just smeared the black soot all over her forehead.

“Well that’s embarrassing. I don’t know what I should be more petrified over; this, or running smack into you and falling on my ass.”

The Commander quirked his lip in a slight smile. “Do you always walk around with your head buried in a book?”

Pax shrugged. “It all depends on the day and the quality of the book.”

The book. Pax froze. Where was her journal?

She turned in a frantic circle, scanning the ground for the fallen item, and then to her horror, she spotted it lying open at the Commander’s feet. Her panic only intensified as he bent down and plucked it from the snow, his eyes scanning over the exposed page. He frowned.

“Is this…” he trailed off, his eyes darting back and forth between the journal and Pax.

“That’s private,” Pax said, snatching the journal from the Commander’s grasp and closing it with a snap.

She watched his brow furrow and his frown turn into a scowl. She could see the mistrust glinting in his amber eyes.

“What language was that?” He growled and stepped forward, causing Pax to take an exaggerated step back from his towering form. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword.

“It’s...it’s my home language, from Rivain. I’m still learning Common from Ambassador Montiliyet.” As she stared back at the glowering Commander, she began to see past his handsome visage. He was in a bad state. His lips were chapped. There were patches of dry skin around his nose and cheeks, and the circles under his eyes were worryingly dark. His complexion was drawn and pale. She’d seen it before. He was malnourished.

“You haven’t been eating.” She blurted out the words before she could stop herself.

“What?” The surprise registered on the Commander’s face, and he stopped his advance.

“I apologize. It’s none of my business.” The Commander gaped at her for a moment, and went to retort, but he was quickly cut off by the sounding of a horn. Soldiers at the gates began to yell out that the Herald’s party had returned. Pax looked off in the distance, and sure enough, multiple figures could be seen moving through the trees.

She turned her gaze back to the Commander, but he was already walking away from her. He motioned to a few of soldiers at the gate, who quickly fell in formation behind him.

Pax let out a shaky breath. If Lena had returned, that meant Varric and the rest had returned as well. She hoped he was in the mood to visit the tavern. She needed a goddamn drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the seemingly endless amount of exposition here, but it was necessary. All the little details are important to build Pax as a character. And since all of her new friends are away, she lives inside her head. 
> 
> As always, comments and constructive criticism are welcome. Please let me know if you see any glaring errors. 
> 
> Thanks! I hope you enjoy!


End file.
